


Harry, Did You Know (that your baby boy, is married to his best friend?)

by tempolarriefics



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Zayn, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bottom Louis, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Photographer Harry, Smut, tbh the angst lasts like two seconds it's hardly there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempolarriefics/pseuds/tempolarriefics
Summary: 10 years ago, Louis and Zayn made a pact that if they weren't married by 30, they'd marry each other. So they do, as best mates do.Enter Harry Styles, who's new to town. He and Louis are immediately drawn to one another. Louis doesn't tell Harry about Zayn, because they're just friends (who are married.)Harry finds out on Christmas Day, Louis/Zayn's "anniversary".aka a marriage pact AU with a twist





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insp (said)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/said/gifts).



> title is a cheesy reference to the christmas carol 'Mary Did You Know' which has now been stuck in my head for two weeks straight
> 
> this fic kind of wrote itself, so I'm not entirely sure if it's what you were looking for but I hope I did the prompt justice. enjoy! xx

_December_

 

“This should be weird, right?” Louis asks, mildly panicked. He is dressed in his best suit, the sleek confidence of which contrasts with the squeaky tone his voice has taken and the expression of terror currently inhabiting his face.

To be fair, today is his wedding day.

He is currently standing at the altar of a small church, across from the man who has been his best friend for twenty years, his fiancee for 10 hours, and will be his husband in about twenty minutes.

Zayn, said best friend and fiancee, shrugs in response, the tight fit of his suit straining to accommodate the motion. “I think we passed weird ten years ago,” he replies easily.

And, well, that’s probably true.

Just over ten years ago today, Louis’ long term ex-boyfriend had broken up with him. On _Christmas_. On the day after Louis’ _birthday_. Understandably, he had been a wreck.

To make matters worse, it was Louis’ first volatile breakup. He had been through breakups before, of course, but his previous breakups were more like a mutual parting of ways, all gentle “it’s not you, it’s me” and “we can still be friends, right?”. This breakup, however, had been all harsh words, screamed insults, and streaming tears.

It took a long time for Louis to heal. Slowly, gradually, it got easier to look in the mirror and not immediately see ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’ and ‘disgusting’. But it was a lot harder to convince himself that ‘worthless’ and ‘unloveable’ weren’t the truth, especially during the unsuccessful months of dating that followed.

Zayn was there for him, of course. From childhood best friends to college roommates, Louis can’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t know that Zayn had his back.

With a lot of alcohol and cuddles, Zayn had managed to weasel Louis’ lingering fears out of him.

“You’re ridiculous.” Zayn had told him sternly after finally getting Louis to admit what he was thinking, hugging him tight. It had been Christmas Eve, the night of his 20th birthday, and Louis remembers sitting on the couch with Zayn that night so vividly that he can practically feel his friend’s arms around him just thinking about it. “I love you.” Zayn had said. “And you are beyond worth it. You are worth more than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re my best friend, Z.” Louis had said dismissively, smiling softly. “That’s nice of you to say, but-”

“But nothing.” Zayn had interrupted. “I mean it. It’s true.”

“No one wants me.” Louis had told him quietly, in a whisper so quiet that he was surprised Zayn even heard. Then, louder, “I’m going to end up alone, with like… fifty dogs.”

Zayn had been quiet for a bit after that, and Louis remembers staring dully at the flickering fireplace during the silence.

But then, Zayn had asked abruptly “What’s a good age to get married? Thirty?”

“What?” Louis had been totally lost. He is still a bit lost as to how Zayn’s train of thought had led him to this, even now.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Zayn had said, as if that clarified anything.

“A deal?”

“If neither of us has found our soulmate, or our true love, or someone we fancy spending the rest of our lives with by the age of thirty, we’ll marry each other.” Zayn had said simply. “Like a backup plan.”

“Um.” Louis had been speechless, looking at Zayn as if he had grown another head.

“I’m serious,” Zayn had said, punching Louis’ arm. “It won’t be weird, we won’t pretend to be in love or anything. We’ll still be friends, just married so that we feel a little less forever alone.”

Louis hadn’t fully believed this, but there had been a single pinky outstretched to him and an offer to not be alone for the rest of his life, so he willingly played along.

“Don’t worry,” Zayn had shrugged easily, linking their pinkies together with a lighthearted smile. “It’s a backup plan – I highly doubt anyone with an ass like yours is still going to be single at thirty.”

And yet, here they are.

“This should be weird,” Louis repeats, mostly to himself.

“It is weird.” Zayn deadpans. “It’s Christmas. I judge anyone who gets married on a major holiday out of principle.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Louis hisses in disbelief. “ _You_ were the one who proposed and planned this.”

Zayn puffs his chest defensively. “Well, it’s the only day both of our families could make it on such short notice!”

Louis rolls his eyes fondly, glancing over to the rows of pews where their families are seated. He waves at the smiling faces of his younger sisters and brother. His family waves back enthusiastically, his mum looking near tears already. He won’t admit it aloud, but he’s grateful that Zayn planned it so they could come even if it means getting married on Christmas Day.

He’s pretty sure Zayn knows that, though. Zayn has a funny way of being able to see straight through Louis’ deflections.

“You realise now you’re obligated to spend my birthday and Christmas with me and my family for literally the rest of our lives, right?” Louis asks Zayn with a grin.

Zayn groans dramatically, smirking as he jokes back “We should have eloped.”

Someone sharply clears their throat, and Louis and Zayn jerk to attention, facing the front of the room once more.

“Now, now, none of that talk. Today is your big day!” The priest standing in front of them is a small, pudgy man with a proud smile that is far too big for his face. It’s possible that he is more excited for Louis and Zayn’s wedding than they are themselves.

(“It’s going to be a small ceremony.” Zayn had informed the priest over the phone the night before. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” The priest had practically shouted, sounding ecstatic. “You’re getting married! It’s _huge_.”)

Louis glances around the church apprehensively, trying to distract himself from the nerves coiling in his stomach. It’s a tiny church, perfect for the small ceremony that he and Zayn had decided on, decorated with a mix of ornate religious designs and tacky holiday items. Large fake snowflakes hover above the nativity scene, and a tall Christmas tree sits proudly in the corner, covered with gaudy colored ornaments.

It’s nice, Louis thinks to himself. It feels a bit more like Sunday School rather than a wedding, but the effort to get in the Christmas spirit is obvious and appreciated.

The priest clears his throat again for attention, and the already quiet church falls into complete silence, save for the faint sound of Christmas music playing in the background.

“You ready, mate?” Zayn asks, nudging Louis gently with his shoulder.

“Don’t call me ‘mate’ when I am less than twenty minutes away from officially becoming your husband.” Louis snarls, tearing his gaze away from their families and back towards the front of the church.

Zayn easily retorts, “That means I’ve got twenty minutes more to call you ‘mate’, then, mate.”

Louis glares at him.

Zayn gives him a triumphant grin, before his face softens and he adds gently, “Besides, you _are_ my best mate. That’s the whole reason we’re here.”

Louis swallows hard. “I didn’t think we would make it this far, if we’re being honest.”

Zayn laughs dryly, and Louis knows he shares the sentiment.

“We are gathered here today to bear witness to the holy matrimony of Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik.” The priest begins, enunciating his words carefully.

Louis smiles to himself, looking down at his toes and rocking a little in place. He glances up at Zayn, who is standing stoically next to him. Zayn is dressed in a formal black suit that he refuses to admit is from his senior prom, even though it definitely is. It’s a bit tight around the shoulders and short at the ankles, but it’s Zayn, so he pulls it off. Louis is pretty sure that Zayn could have shown up in a t-shirt and jeans, and still managed to upstage him in terms of looks.

Zayn’s ability to look effortlessly attractive is just another reason that Louis doesn’t understand how he is still single at age 29. But then again, despite his dramatic whining about being forever alone, Louis didn’t actually expect to still be hopelessly single at age thirty himself.

The priest is rambling happily about love and eternity, and Louis can’t help but cringe. They love each other, of course, but they aren’t in love. And the only promise of eternity that they are making is one of eternal friendship.

Louis wonders how it would have gone if they had admitted to the priest that they are only getting married because ten years ago they pinky-promised each other that they would.

“Do you, Zayn Malik, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health?” The priest asks, beaming at Zayn.

“I do.” Zayn says, winking at Louis.

“And do you, Louis Tomlinson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health?”

“I do.” Louis echoes Zayn, smiling wide.

“If anyone has any reason why these two should not be lawfully wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The priest says, looking out at the crowd as he pauses for interruption.

“I’m almost surprised no one is objecting,” Zayn mutters under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

“They might think we actually fell in love,” Louis suggests in disbelief, smiling weakly at his mum in the audience. “You know, falling for your best friend and all that.”

“But you’re like a brother to me,” Zayn protests quietly.

“Don’t say that,” Louis hisses, making a face. “That makes this incest.”

“Don’t say _that_ ,” Zayn whispers back, looking alarmed. “You can’t talk about incest during our wedding ceremony in a church in front of the _priest_!”

Louis shrugs.

At the audience’s continued silence, the priest declares happily “In that case, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.” There’s a smattering of applause, before he continues, finishing with a flourish “You may now kiss the groom.”

One of Louis’ sisters, Phoebe probably, lets out a squeal of excitement.

Louis rolls his eyes, smirking up at Zayn, who is significantly closer to him than he was moments ago.

“We definitely should have gotten drunk before this.” Zayn murmurs, cupping a hand at Louis’ cheek.

“Shut up.” Louis tells him.

“You could shut me up a different way.” Zayn jokes suggestively.

The priest cringes.

Louis laughs, grinning at Zayn before leaning in and smacking a quick, sloppy kiss to his lips.

Zayn laughs, too, and they grin giddily at each other for a moment.

“I’m going to call you ‘husband’ now.” Zayn informs him with a smirk. ‘All the time. Until you’re so sick of it, you wish you married one of those guys you tried to date on grindr.”

“Not possible, darling dearest.” Louis coos, pinching Zayn’s cheek. “I’ve got quite the repertoire of pet names to get back at you with.”

“Fine.” Zayn huffs. “Come on, husband. Let’s go celebrate Christmas.”

There isn’t a reception, because it is Christmas day and the entire audience consists of just their immediate families anyways. After all, they are just two friends getting married for old time’s sake.

So after signing their marriage certificate and taking some cheesy pictures together, they thank the priest and leave the church to celebrate the holiday with their families.

“Hold my hand?” Louis asks Zayn.

“Needy. You’re needy already.” Zayn teases, but laces their fingers together nonetheless.

Louis grins, kissing Zayn’s cheek and tugging him out of the church doors. “And you’re stuck with me.”

Zayn sighs dramatically, but if the reassuring squeeze he gives Louis’ hand is anything to go by, he is anything but upset about the turn of events.

They leave the church like that, hand in hand, a united front. Even once they’ve separated Louis feels it in his body, the knowledge that he and Zayn are officially in this together for the long run.

It should be a momentous realization. It should be the most important day of his life to date.

And yet, Louis feels like nothing has changed.

Probably because nothing has. He and Zayn have been in it together for the long run since day one.

 

-

 

“Are you sure you want to come home for the holidays this year, baby?” Louis’ mum, Jay, asks him gently. They’re standing in the church parking lot, next to Jay’s minivan. She’s holding onto both of Louis’ shoulders, keeping him at an arm’s length so she can look him squarely in the eye. “I know we planned to drive down for your wedding and drive back all together for the holidays, but I don’t want to be separating the two of you so soon. You won’t even have a chance to go on honeymoon!”

Louis’ cheeks flush red at the suggestion, his eyes automatically widening in alarm. “No, of course I want to come home, mum,” He says quickly. “I’ve already got my bags packed and everything. And don’t worry about me and Zayn,” He assures her, glancing over to make sure Zayn’s within earshot before adding loudly “I won’t even miss him, I promise.”

“Oi!” Zayn calls out from where he is standing with his family, but he’s grinning widely.

Louis shrugs innocently at him, laughing. “Really, though.” He tells his mum again. “Don’t worry about us. We’re just glad you came.”

Jay studies him for a moment, her blue eyes piercing through him before she relents, saying “Alright, hon. Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Louis promises, kissing her on the cheek.

“I’ll let you say your goodbyes then, okay? Meet us in the car.” Jay tells him, smiling warmly.

“Okay.” Louis says, nodding.

“And baby?” Jay calls out as Louis is about to walk over to Zayn.

“Yeah?” Louis calls back.

“I’m really proud of you.” It’s quiet, but meaningful, and Louis can’t help the soft smile that blooms on his face in response to his mum’s words.

He gives her a nod, his smile faltering for a moment, and then quickly jogs over to Zayn.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malik,” He greets Zayn’s parents politely, tucking himself easily in at Zayn’s side.

“Oh please, Louis,” Zayn’s mum laughs. “No need to be formal now, darling. It’s still Trisha and Yaser to you.”

Louis chuckles, shrugging. “Well, you’re my new mother and father in-law. I figured I’ve got to make a good impression.”

Trisha and Yaser laugh good-naturedly, and Louis beams. He’s always been a charmer with parents.

“You wouldn’t mind if I stole this one for a few moments, would you?” He asks, jerking a thumb towards Zayn.

They wave him off kindly, and he grabs Zayn’s hand, tugging him a short distance away so as to be out of earshot from everyone else.

“Remind me why we didn’t tell our families that we’re still just friends?” Louis whisper-shrieks.

“I mean,” Zayn shrugs. “For one thing, it’s weird. Like really weird, to just marry your best friend because you have no one else to marry.”

“We’re pathetic, I get it.” Louis groans in exasperation. “But why didn’t we _tell_ them?”

“You’re freaking out.” Zayn informs him. “Stop freaking out. We didn’t _not_ tell them. We just let them infer.”

“Well, yeah, because when you’ve been best friends since you were in nappies and live together for the better part of your adult lives and then announce that you’re engaged, it’s usually the obvious conclusion that at least something romantic is going on.” Louis snaps.

Zayn shrugs. “Did you want to tell them _now_?”

Louis sighs. “I don’t… I don’t know. My mum is making comments about not wanting to separate us, and our honeymoon, and how proud she is of me. I feel like I’m lying to her face.”

“Well, you’re not.” Zayn assures him, looking him in the eye. “It’s not the type of relationship she expected, sure, but it still is one. We’re married now. That’s that.”

Louis is so lucky to have a best friend like Zayn.

“I actually probably am going to miss you.” Louis admits, looking at his toes.

“You too.” Zayn says, pulling Louis in for a hug.

“I got you a Christmas present.” Louis says, patting at his pocket before pulling out an envelope and handing it to Zayn.

“Damn right, you better have.” Zayn jokes, grinning as he takes the envelope. “There’s no way it can top my present to you, though.” He says, almost regretfully. “What could top a proposal?”

Louis tries not to look too smug as Zayn tears it open and immediately takes back his words. His mouth goes slack as he sees the tickets to a sold-out art show laying inside, choking out “Holy shit. This is definitely better than a proposal.”

He had been upset about not being able to buy tickets himself, complaining first about the price and then about how he had missed his chance because the show sold out. Louis had pounced on the opportunity for the perfect gift.

“I love you.” Zayn says after a moment of shock. “Like, a lot.”

“Good.” Louis says with a smirk. “Because you married me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, pulling Louis in for a hug. “See you later, husband.”

“See you.” Louis whispers.

Louis says goodbye to Trisha, Yaser, and Zayn’s sisters before getting into his mum’s car, watching Zayn and his family through the window as she pulls out to start the drive back to Doncaster.

When Louis lifts his hand to wave goodbye for the last time, he catches sight of the ring on his fourth finger. His hand stills, and he stares at it for just a little bit too long.

 

-

 

The drive back to Doncaster passes quickly.

Louis’ sisters are especially eager to catch up with him and hear all about what he’s been up to. He tells them all about what they’ve missed since they last talked, from him and Zayn buying their Christmas tree to his birthday celebrations to Zayn’s proposal. They gush about his new job, as he’s recently been promoted at the radio station he works at to co-host a breakfast show. And, of course, they squeal about his wedding, asking him all about him and Zayn.

“When did you know you were in love with him?” Daisy asks him, big blue eyes blinking at him dreamily.

“Yeah, how did it happen?” Phoebe chimes in with her twin.

Louis shakes his head, smiling fondly at the girls as his brain races for an answer. He doesn’t think he’s ever properly been in love, not the type of love that leads to promises of the future. He wonders what it would feel like.

“It just kind of happened.” Louis says after a moment, shrugging weakly. “It’s hard to explain.”

Fortunately, his mum pulls into the driveway of their house just then, announcing “Home sweet home, everyone!”

Still, she gives him a funny look in the rearview mirror.

Louis pretends not to see it.

 

-

 

There’s something wonderful about their house in Doncaster.

It feels safe, warm, and comforting in a way that his shared flat with Zayn never does. Louis is swept inside with the rest of his family, and soon the dark house is a bright, happy chaos as it always is during the holiday season.

Jay shoves Louis’ bags at him, ordering him to go change and get settled before coming back to help with the cooking of Christmas dinner. Ernest and Doris argue about what Christmas song will be played first, and Daisy, Phoebe, and Fizzy follow their mum into the kitchen to help start with the food.

“Lou,” Dan greets him, intercepting him on his way towards the stairs to pull him into a hug, clapping a strong hand at his back. “Congrats. If it wasn’t so last minute, I would’ve been there for sure - So sorry I missed it.”

Louis shakes his head, assuring Dan that it’s not a big deal at all before jogging upstairs to his old room.

The house has changed a lot over the years, and Louis’ room is no longer necessarily his own. It’s Ernest’s room now, he reminds himself, but it looks much the same as it used to when it was his. The walls are still painted green, except for the wall closest to where the twin bed is positioned. Back when Zayn had lived next door, he had come over and distracted him from painting. Hidden behind the bed, he knows, there are two green handprints side by side on the unpainted wall.

“Hey, stranger.” A voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Lottie standing behind him.

“Lots,” He greets her easily, wrapping an arm around his sister. “How’ve you been?”

Lottie is so grown now, and it surprises him every time he sees her. He remembers when she was younger, before she got into the makeup and fashion industry. Now, she’s a famous youtuber and while he couldn’t be more proud, it still catches him off guard that she’s not just his baby sister anymore.

Lottie ignores his question, pushing past him into Ernest’s room and shutting the door behind her before flopping down on the bed. “Well? C’mere, you.”

Louis chuckles, setting down his bags and slipping out of his suit jacket before dropping down onto the soft comforter next to her.

“It’s weird to think that Ernest will probably get himself off right on this bed where I used to,” Louis muses aloud.

Lottie punches his arm, hard. “Ew!” She says, making a face at him. “That’s disgusting, can we _please_ not think about that as we lay on his bed?”

Louis laughs, rubbing at his bicep where she had hit. “Sorry, sorry. ‘S just weird to see you all grow up.”

Lottie doesn’t reply, and after a moment Louis turns to find her watching him closely.

“What?” He asks.

“We’re watching you grow up, too, you know.” Lottie tells him.

Louis shrugs. “True.”

“I watched you get married today, for crying out loud.” Lottie continues, grabbing for his left hand to look at his ring. “It’s weird for me, too.”

It’s a fair point, so Louis nods in understanding.

“Can I ask you something?” Lottie says after a moment. “I don’t want to, like, offend you or anything.”

Louis barks out a laugh, nudging his sister with his shoulder. “Stop it, of course you can. Anything.”

“Do you really love him? Zayn, I mean?” Lottie is looking at him curiously, knowingly.

“I…” Louis hesitates. “What makes you ask that?”

Lottie shrugs. “It’s a very sudden marriage, is all. And I’ve hung out with both of you plenty of times before - I never got the feeling that either of you thought of each other as anything more than friends.”

Louis smiles wryly. “You’re getting all smart on me,” He teases, just like he used to when she was small.

“I’m twenty _four_!” Lottie tells him, huffing.

Louis laughs, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah,” He says, smiling softly. “He’s my best mate, you know? We definitely love each other.”

“That still just sounds like friendship,” Lottie says, eyes narrowed now as she studies her older brother.

“That’s because it is.” Louis agrees, biting his lip nervously. He hesitates, taking a deep breath before explaining. “This is going to sound stupid, but we pinky-promised each other ten years ago that if we were both still single, we’d marry each other.”

Lottie’s eyes go round, her expertly done eyeliner and mascara making them pop out even more.

“It’s ten years later and we’re both still single, so,” Louis shrugs. “Here we are.”

“That…” Lottie says slowly, still looking at him as if he’s gone insane. “Is crazy.”

Louis laughs. “I mean, the thinking is that we’re going to be best friends for life anyways – might as well make it official that we’ll be spending our lives together. And, you know, this way we don’t seem as pathetic. Maybe somewhere along the line we’ll even adopt kids or summat, I dunno.”

“No, this is _definitely_ more pathetic.” Lottie informs him, but there’s a teasing glint in the blue of her eyes.

“Shut up,” Louis tells her, shoving at her shoulder.

“This explains so much,” Lottie laughs, looking thoroughly entertained with the whole story. “Your kiss today was beyond uncomfortable, and you don’t seem in love with him at all.”

Louis shrugs, snapping “Well, you try kissing your best mate and tell me how completely comfortable _you_ are.”

“Well I’m not stupid enough to marry my best friend for no reason at all,” Lottie retorts, rolling her eyes. Then, a mischievous smile spreads on her face. “Does mum know?”

Louis falters, and Lottie’s eyes light up.

“You didn’t even tell _mum_?” Lottie shrieks in a whisper. “Oh, you are so dead when she finds out.”

“She’s not going to find out,” Louis says lowly, hoping he is successful in his attempt at sounding calm and threatening at the same time. “And if you tell her, I’ll know, and I will kill you.”

Lottie rolls her eyes, sighing, “Fine. I won’t tell, but you realise she’ll probably find out somehow anyways, right? Besides, what happens if you or Zayn do end up meeting someone you like?”

“Someone we like enough to marry?” Louis asks, raising a dubious eyebrow at her. “It’s been years now, and I haven’t even met someone I like enough to go on a second date with. I’m not going to fall head over heels for someone anytime soon.”

“It could happen, though.” Lottie tells him, looking dissatisfied with his answer. “You never know. Love isn’t convenient.”

Louis sighs, begrudgingly acknowledging that his younger sister probably does know more about love than he does at this point. She and her longterm boyfriend, Tommy, have been serious for a few years now, and Louis is pretty certain that the whole family is waiting for Tommy to pop the question.

“Well, I doubt it will happen anytime soon.” Louis tells her. “And if it does, we’ll deal with that when the time comes, yeah?”

“Alright.” Lottie presses her lips together, not looking pleased but also not seeming to know what else to advise him. “Mum really is going to kill you though – you might as well get it over with.”

“Yeah.” Louis shrugs, hugging his sister one last time before standing up. “How about instead, you just tell me ‘I told you so’ after I’ve fucked it up.”

Lottie rolls her eyes, but stands too. “Deal. And Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t look so bad for thirty, you know.”

Louis tackles her onto the bed again, Christmas dinner preparations forgotten.

 

-

 

Christmas dinner is nice, in the way holiday meals always are. Now that the excitement over Louis’ spontaneous wedding has faded somewhat, they’re able to catch up properly with each other’s lives. It’s a fairly momentous time for everyone – it’s Fizzy’s first year out of uni, and she tells them all about her new job; Phoebe and Daisy are almost 18, and will be legal and hearing back from universities they applied to very soon; Ernest and Doris are in their third year of primary school, and eager to share all that they are learning.

It's easy for Louis to get caught up with his family, falling into the familiar rhythm of things in the Deakin-Tomlinson household. It hasn’t actually been that long since Louis was home to visit, and yet every time he comes back it feels like it must have been forever.

With Phoebe and Daisy talking excitedly about uni and Fizzy and Lottie talking about their jobs, it feels like the years have passed in a blink of an eye. He remembers before he was worried about marriage, when being forever alone was a distant worry, when Phoebe and Daisy were in primary school and Lottie and Fizzy still had no idea about what they wanted to do with their futures.

Now, stuffing himself with ham and potatoes and pie, sitting at the table with his family, it feels as though nothing has changed. And yet so much has. He’s a married man.

They finish dinner, which is full of all savory homecooked food and so much laughter that Louis’ cheeks hurt.

It’s a good time, and when Jay finally sends Ernest and Doris off to bed, bidding them “Merry Christmas!” Louis can’t help but agree that it really has been a merry day.

 

-

 

It’s not until the 28th, after an excellent Christmas and Boxing Day with his family, that Zayn calls.

“Hey, _darling_ ” Louis answers, gesturing apologetically to Daisy and Phoebe, who roll their eyes at him in synchronization and continue with mixing chocolate chips into their cookie batter.

There’s a pause, and he can practically picture Zayn cringing at the term of endearment. “Hi, husband.” Zayn replies after a moment.

Louis laughs. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to know when you’re planning on coming home?” Zayn asks, and more than anything Louis likes that he refers to their flat as ‘home’.

“I reckon I’ll drive back the day before New Year’s Eve.” Louis tells him. “You?”

“Same.” Zayn confirms. “I just wanted to make sure, ‘cos I think we promised a New Year’s party this year and I haven’t done anything so far to prepare.”

Louis barks out a laugh. He and Zayn are known for throwing the best Christmas parties, mostly because Louis’ birthday is on Christmas Eve and he always insists on a good party for it. This year, instead of a Christmas Eve and birthday party as usual, Zayn had surprised him with a proposal. So, a New Year’s party it is.

“We don’t know the first thing about throwing a New Year’s party, Z.” Louis says, scratching at his head thoughtfully. “D’you think it’ll be much different than our Christmas ones?”

“Nah.” Zayn replies, calm as ever. “We’ve just got to remember to stop everyone for the countdown and it’ll be good.”

Louis shrugs before remembering that Zayn can’t see him. “Okay. Sounds good, then. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.” Zayn agrees, followed by a soft click as he hangs up.

“Who was that?” Phoebe asks, curious eyes studying him.

“Just Zayn,” Louis answers easily, smiling at his sister.

“You didn’t say you loved him before you hung up the phone.” Daisy points out, frowning at him. “You _always_ say ‘I love you’ before you hang up when you talk to us.”

“Yeah,” Phoebe agrees with her twin. “And if we don’t say it back you never let us hear the end of it, because ‘ _what if it’s the last time we talk’_ or something.” She rolls her eyes, mimicking him in a high-pitched voice that he takes slight offense to.

“Zayn’s…different,” is all Louis can come up with. It’s a weak answer, and he knows it. Maybe if the twins were still younger, he might have a chance at getting away with it. But they are eighteen years old now, and know him far too well to be satisfied by this.

Matching dubious expressions, blue eyes filled with disbelief and one eyebrow raised each, are facing him when he turns to look at them.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s _true_.” Louis says, pressing a sloppy kiss to the tops of each of their heads that has them ducking away from him. “He knows I love him. And I trust him enough to take care of himself until I see him again.”

“And we don’t know?” Phoebe demands.

“And you don’t trust us?” Daisy challenges at the same time.

“Nope,” Louis tells them with a nonchalant shrug.

He’s teasing them, and they know it. But that doesn’t stop them from starting a food fight with him, flour and cookie dough flying across the kitchen.

Chucking a glob of cookie dough back at Daisy, Louis smiles to himself. He doesn’t feel thirty.

 

-

 

Jay doesn’t confront him until he is just about to leave.

“I don’t know why you insist on leaving so early.” She calls out, her voice tired but clear. She’s standing in a fuzzy blue bathrobe in front of his car, her arms folded as if she is cross but her face filled with a warm smile.

She’s right, it is early - just past 6AM. Louis likes to leave home at the earliest time possible, so that he doesn’t have to bear seeing his siblings’ sad faces as he drives away. It’s a habit that he started when he first moved out, back when Ernest and Doris were too young to understand why he was leaving and would cry and scream every time he tried to. Because of their fits, Louis started saying his goodbyes to everyone the night before, and sneaking out early the next morning.

Even now, the habit has stuck with him. Louis thinks it always will.

He said goodbye to all of his siblings last night, hugging and kissing them before they went to bed until they grumbled and complained for him to let go of them already. He snuck in this morning too, just before he left the house, kissing their foreheads goodbye as they slept.

“Hey, mum,” Louis greets her sheepishly, scuffing past her in the snow to toss his bags in the backseat of the car before coming back around to hug her tight.

“Hey, boobear.” She murmurs.

Louis groans at the childhood nickname, pulling back and cringing overdramatically so his mum can see how much he doesn’t appreciate being called it. “ _Mum_.” He emphasizes. “I’m _thirty_.”

“I know,” She agrees, humming into his shoulder. “My baby’s all grown up.”

Louis sighs, shrugging. He understands where she’s coming from. It must be hard to watch your children grow up, get jobs, and get married.

“I’ve been all grown up for a while now, mum.” He says gently.

“I know,” She repeats herself, sounding weepy. “But it’s official now, isn’t it? C’mere, love, let me see the ring.”

Louis indulges her, sighing fondly as he tugs his glove off of his left hand to reveal it to her. The winter air is cold against his skin, but his mum’s fingers are warm as she traces over his ring finger.

“So, you and Zayn hmm?” She asks carefully.

Louis knows this tone. He is thirty after all, and has grown accustomed to his mum’s various ways of expressing herself. Her raised eyebrow, too careful fingers, too light tone, it all means something. She’s suspicious of him, to say the least.

Louis hums noncommittally, not sure what to say. He’s not sure how much she knows, and not willing to reveal anything that she hasn’t already figured out herself.

“Always knew the two of you were close,” Jay continues. “But I never expected you to actually get together.”

Louis chuckles, shrugging. After a moment of quiet, he offers truthfully “I don’t think anyone did, if I’m honest.”

Jay fixes him with a knowing look. “Does that include yourself?”

Louis laughs aloud at that. “Of course.” He shakes his head, fixing his hair a bit as he explains, “If you had told me fifteen years ago that I would be marrying Zayn, I’d probably laugh in your face.”

His mum tuts in disapproval. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She sighs, looking him squarely in the eye and asking, “Do you love him?”

After all the acting classes he took in college, Louis would have hoped to react somewhat better. But he hesitates, a rookie mistake. “Yeah.”

His mum narrows her eyes. “Are you in love with him?”

Louis swallows, averting his eyes. Another rookie mistake.

It’s one thing to lie to your mum about who ate the last cookie, or who was responsible for the broken plate. It’s another thing to lie about your recent marriage.

“Louis.” His mum says softly, and it’s so gentle and kind that Louis thinks he might start tearing up, too.

He meets her gaze again, her fierce blue eyes filled with understanding.

“I just want you to be happy, baby. You know that, right?” She asks kindly.

Louis nods, scuffing his feet in the snow. “I am, though. I really am.”

“I know you see marriage as a milestone, but it’s really not.” She explains. “I went through two marriages before Dan, you know that. It’s not something you need to rush.”

Louis nods.

He must look wholly unconvinced, because his mum continues “And even if you were to not ever get married, that would have been fine too.”

Louis thinks of his mum, watching him with sad eyes at every large family get together. He thinks of his aunt, always inquiring after who the fit blokes in his Facebook photos are, hoping one of them will be his boyfriend. He thinks of his gran, asking every time she sees him if he’s gone and settled down yet. He thinks of his colleagues, bringing their spouses to work parties and wondering why Louis never has a plus one. He thinks of his friends, keeping an eye out for someone they think might be his type to try to set him up.

“I know.” Louis says, even though he doesn’t.

She pulls him in for a tight hug, whispering “Okay. Just know that we love you no matter what happens, alright? And someone out there will love you just as much too. Don’t give up on yourself just yet.”

Louis gasps, pretending to look scandalized. “I am a married man. I can’t be looking for someone else!”

Jay laughs, the sound ringing through the crisp winter air. “I’m just saying.” She tells him, eyes twinkling.

Louis chuckles, hugging her tight. “Thanks, mum. I love you.”

“You too. Drive safe now, you hear me? Get back to your Zayn.” His mum smiles, pinching his cheek before gently pushing him towards the driver’s door. “Take care of yourself.”

 

-

 

Zayn is sitting outside of the door to their flat when Louis gets back, hugging his knees to his chest as he plays what looks like Sims FreePlay on his phone.

“Did you forget your keys?” Louis asks by way of greeting as he walks down the hall.

Zayn looks up, startled, before his face breaks into a wide smile. “Nah. I was waiting for you.”

“You couldn’t wait inside?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Zayn replies, getting to his feet and tucking his phone into his back pocket.

Zayn steps towards him, in what Louis expects to be a hug. He’s ready to call him out, to say something along the lines of “Aww, did you miss me? Just can’t get enough of this?” when in a sudden move, Zayn picks him up, lifting him bridal style.

Louis chokes on his intended words, letting out an undignified squawk that he will later deny. “Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Put me _down_.”

He wriggles in Zayn’s arms, doing a valiant job of trying to break free. Zayn isn’t all that much stronger than him, but he has a tight grip and Louis only succeeds in flailing about unhelpfully.

“Stop whining,” Zayn demands, rolling his eyes. “I’m carrying you over the threshold.”

Louis goes still in Zayn’s hold, if only to fix him properly with a judgmental glare. “You’re what?”

“It’s a wedding tradition.” Zayn replies, brown eyes wide and innocent.

“What?” Louis asks in disbelief.

“It’s bad luck if one of us trips when we walk back into our home for the first time after getting married.” Zayn explains. “So it’s tradition for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold.”

Louis blinks at him. There’s quite a lot of things he could say to this, from “I’m not going to trip” to “how do you even know this?”. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why am I the bride?”

Zayn doesn’t deign him with an answer, shifting to adjust his hold on Louis as he simultaneously attempts to unlock the door. Louis rolls his eyes even though Zayn isn’t looking, reluctantly wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck to keep from falling as Zayn struggles with the lock.

“I think this is supposed to go a little more smoothly,” He whispers loudly to Zayn as he rams his shoulder against the door, jostling Louis in his arms.

“Shut _up_.” Zayn huffs, finally getting the door handle to turn.

Zayn takes Louis’ weight back fully in his arms, kicks open the door, and turns sideways to maneuver them through the opening.

“A lot more smoothly,” Louis comments as Zayn inches them sideways through the door.

“You’re heavy, and I haven’t worked out since October.” Zayn defends himself as he finally gets them through.

He staggers over to their couch, dropping Louis unceremoniously onto it before collapsing next to him.

“Can we agree that we’re done with wedding traditions now?” Louis asks, raising a wry eyebrow at his husband.

“What, so no honeymoon sex then?” Zayn asks, bursting out in a breathless laugh.

Louis punches his arm, laughing too.

“How was your holiday?” Louis asks.

“Really good. Missed my family more than I realised, you know?” Zayn says thoughtfully. “They’re all very excited and doubtful that we finally got married, though.”

Louis laughs, draping his legs over Zayn’s lap. “Same for me. My mum was thrilled on the day of the wedding but I think over the time I spent there, she figured me out.”

“Yeah? What do you mean?” Zayn asks, more amused than concerned.

“She stopped me this morning, gave me a talk about holding out for someone who I’m actually in love with.” Louis explains.

Zayn looks impressed. “Your mum is a hell of a woman.” He tells Louis after a moment. “I’m glad she’s onto us, I think. I’d be terrified of her wrath if she were to find out later down the line.”

Louis chuckles, shrugging modestly. “How did your family take it?”

“Mostly relieved, I think.” Zayn says after a moment. “I think they’re hoping married life will get me to settle down – you know, stop smoking, get a serious career, and all that.”

“A serious career?” Louis asks, frowning. “Your art is amazing, Z.”

“Yeah, well.” Zayn shrugs and Louis nods in understanding. Being an artist is not the most lucrative or reliable profession, and Zayn’s family has always disapproved. “I don’t know why they would think that anything would change. You’ve been right by my side since the beginning.”

Louis smiles. “Yeah. And I will til the end.”

“Apparently.” Zayn deadpans. “For better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

They sit in comfortable quiet for a moment, before Louis speaks up again. “Do you think we’ll stay married? Like, do you think one of us will find someone else?”

“Having second thoughts already?” Zayn asks, teasing. Then, more serious, “If one of us does, that’s fine. It’ll be like an affair on the side, until the other does too. Or until it gets serious.”

Louis shrugs. “You’re right, yeah. Not a big deal.”

Zayn smirks, nodding seriously. “You’d do well to learn early on in our marriage that I’m always right.”

Louis laughs, tackling Zayn and hitting him in the face with a pillow.

It’s nice, is the thing. Them being married hasn’t changed their dynamic at all, other than expanding the number of inside jokes they have and the ways in which they can tease each other.

“Shit.” Zayn says, after successfully managing to wrench the pillow from Louis’ hands. “We’ve got a party to plan for, don’t we?”

“First party as a married couple.” Louis agrees, nodding sagely. “It’s going to be our best yet.”

 

-

 

The party, it turns out, is decidedly not their best.

Louis sighs from where he is standing by the kitchen, sipping on a beer as he surveys the room.

To say the decorations are weak would be an understatement. Louis and Zayn are very well known for their Christmas parties – they throw them yearly for Louis’ birthday and have it down to an art – but they have never thrown a New Year’s party before. They understandably didn’t have any New Year’s decorations, and hadn’t really known what to buy either.

(“Do we want streamers?” Zayn had asked Louis the other day over the phone. He was in the local dollar store, shopping for decorations and disposable plates and cups. Louis had been out buying alcohol and snacks.

“Streamers are so generic.” Louis had replied, scanning the selections of beer at Tesco.

“All New Year’s decorations are generic.” Zayn had sighed, sounding frustrated. “All that’s in my basket right now are stupid signs with the year on them, a banner that says ‘Happy New Years!’, and party hats.”

“Party hats?” Louis had frowned, crinkling his nose. “Put those back, no one will wear them anyways.”

“We’ve had some at your birthday before. And they say ‘Happy New Years’ on them.” Zayn had defended himself. “It’s festive.”

“It’s stupid.” Louis had replied. “Don’t you remember that one time? You got party hats that said “Happy Birthday” on them and Jason from flat 2B went around wearing them on his chest like weird pointy breasts. It was scarring.”

“There’s nothing else New Years’ themed.” Zayn had whined, accompanied by a rustling in the background that Louis hoped was the sound of him returning the offending party hats to the shelf. “For Christmas there’s always mistletoe, wreaths, ornaments, or even just red and green shit, you know? What the fuck are New Years’ colours?”

“I feel like gold is New Years-y.” Louis had offered, his voice lilting up at the end to make it a question.

“Just buy a lot of alcohol.” Zayn had told him. “We’ll get everyone so drunk that they don’t remember how shit our flat looks.”)

Zayn had ended up getting a bunch of streamers, in all colours of the rainbow since he didn’t know which one best fit the occasion. They are hung across the ceiling, accompanied by similarly coloured balloons – except for one black balloon that reads “Happy New Year!” in a funky font. The resulting rainbow effect makes it seem more like a coming out party than anything else, but people seem to generally be enjoying themselves regardless.

There’s a lot of alcohol, too, and just about everyone that they had invited had come, bringing along friends as well. The room is packed, stiflingly warm from the body heat if you stop dancing and drinking long enough to notice it. The windows are all open, though, and Louis doesn’t know what else he can do to help the situation.

There’s a cake, too, that he had bought from a local bakery. It was a delicious cake, light and fluffy and sweet. That is, until Greg from flat 3C had gotten his face smashed in it. Well, Louis supposes the cake probably still tastes good, but he’s not exactly keen on testing it anymore.

“Lou!” His friend Niall calls out, appearing from the crowd of dancing bodies with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

“Niall, how are you mate?” Louis greets him, flinging an arm around his blonde friend as he approaches.

“I’m really good. It’s New Year’s and all, you know? Excited.” Niall says, bouncing a little on his toes.

Louis loves that about Niall, the energy he brings with him wherever he goes. He could light up a room with just a smile, Louis thinks.

“Me too.” Louis says, grinning.

“D’you know of any pretty, available girls who might want a kiss at midnight?” Niall asks, tugging Louis with him into the kitchen and pouring them both a shot. At Louis’ raised eyebrow, Niall explains “You don’t look nearly drunk enough for New Year’s, mate.”

Louis laughs at that, willingly knocking back the shot. The alcohol burns pleasantly as it slides down his throat, curling with warmth towards his stomach. “Another.” He says, holding out his shotglass and Niall eagerly refills it.

Pleasantly buzzed, Louis peers through to their living room to try to scan the faces of their guests. “Can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.” He tells Niall. “You’ll have to go seek her out yourself.”

“Gotta hurry, then.” Niall says, tilting his head back as he takes a shot himself. “It’s almost twelve.”

“Go get ‘em.” Louis says encouragingly, and Niall turns to give him a funny look.

“Aren’t you…” He trails off mid-question, seeming to think better of what he was about to say before trying again, “Is it true you and Zayn are a thing?”

“Well.” Louis pauses before answering, “Partly. How’d you hear it?”

“I thought Zayn mentioned something about getting together with you soon,” Niall looks hesitant, eyes pitying. “But, just so you know, he’s out there right now grinding something fierce with that Liam bloke from floor three.”

Louis bursts out laughing, and Niall looks genuinely concerned. “Good for him.” Louis says, earnest.

“What?” Niall asks. “You aren’t hurt? We’ll find you a fit bloke to kiss at midnight instead of Zayn, I promise.”

Louis shakes his head, pulling Niall in for a hug and smacking a kiss to his cheek. “No need, Nialler. I’m perfectly fine. Zayn and I have a very…loose relationship, you could say.”

“Meaning… it’s not exclusive?” Niall asks, eyes wide.

“Definitely not.” Louis agrees. “We have a love for the ages,” He says dramatically. “But not a sexual relationship.”

Niall nods like he understands, but his brow is still furrowed in confusion.

Rather than clarifying, Louis pats Niall on the cheek before heading out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Also, we’re married now.”

He leaves Niall gaping at him in shock as he blends in seamlessly with the dancing bodies in their living room. Looking around, he spots Zayn making out with a fit bloke with cropped brown hair – this must be Liam from floor three, then.

Good for Zayn, he thinks, glancing around to see if he can find someone he’d like to spend his New Years with. It’s like every other party he has been to, all friendly looking faces that blend together with not one that stands out.

And well, that’s probably the reason that he’s married to Zayn now.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…” The chanting begins, overpowering the music.

Louis stops swiveling his hips, glancing over his shoulder to see who he’s even grinding against. It’s a face he doesn’t recognize, most likely a friend of someone in their apartment building. He’s not particularly interested in a midnight kiss from this stranger, though, so he moves to extract himself from the mass of people who had been dancing.

A hand catches his wrist, and he looks up snarling in surprise, ready to snatch his arm away.

“Hey, easy. It’s me.” Zayn is smiling at him, looking wrecked. His ugly Christmas sweater is crooked on his shoulders, his lips bitten red, and his hair disheveled from someone repeatedly running their fingers through it. It’s Zayn, though, so he looks beyond good despite it all.

“Seven…Six…Five…” The crowd continues as Louis blinks up in confusion at his friend and husband.

“What are you doing? What happened to Liam?” Louis asks, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder urgently with his free hand. There’s only five seconds left, and Zayn is standing with him instead of with the boy he really wants to be with right now. “Fuck your chivalry, Malik, go find him.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, smiling languidly at Louis. “I will, after this.”

“Four…Three…Two…One…!”

The air hangs still for one precious moment, the anticipation of the New Year palpable.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Zayn pulls Louis into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and whooping loudly.

Louis laughs, joining in with the cheers of “Happy New Year!” that are chorusing around him.

“New year, new us.” Zayn tells him, an arm still slung easily around his shoulders.

Louis smiles, shaking his head fondly as the cheering dies down and the music starts back up again. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He tells Zayn seriously.

“I know.” Zayn agrees. “I wanted to, though. Besides, it’d be kind of shit to spend my first married New Year with another bloke.”

“It’s kind of shit of you to leave that other bloke for your _husband_ without telling him.” Louis retorts, wondering where Liam has even gone.

“It’s fine.” Zayn chuckles. “Neither of us are looking for anything serious anyways. I’ll find him again in a bit, see if we can take things back to my room.”

Louis shakes his head, hugging Zayn. “Thanks, Z. Love you.”

“You too.” Zayn says, releasing Louis with a nod and a teasing smirk. “Besides, what better way to start off our new year of marriage than by having sex with another man?”

Louis laughs, shoving Zayn away. “Shut up, you’re making it sound worse than it is. We’re married _friends_ , it’s beyond fine.”

“I think this would be good grounds for divorce if it ever comes to that, too.” Zayn says thoughtfully, and Louis shoves him again.

“Stop planning how to wreck our marriage and go get your man already.” He says.

Zayn goes.

Niall, standing nearby with a pretty brunette in his arms, catches Louis’ eye. He looks thoroughly lost. “What,” he says “the fuck.”

By the time Louis has finished explaining the situation to Niall - (“Holy shit, you and Zayn are best friend _goals._ ”) - the party is dying down.

“I can’t believe you actually got married.” Niall says from where he is laying on the floor.

Louis nods, cracking a smile. “Neither can we.”

“Is it weird?” Niall asks, propping himself up on one elbow to take another swig of beer. “Being married?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Louis shrugs. “I thought it would be, but it’s like nothing has even changed.”

“You’re not wearing a ring, though.” Niall frowns, eyes zeroing in on Louis’ left hand.

“Took it off for tonight, because of the party.” Louis explains. “We aren’t _taken_. Just married.”

“That makes no fucking sense.” Niall says, but he lies back contentedly before adding “I’m offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding, just so you know.”

“No one was invited other than family, if it makes you feel better.” Louis assures him. “We wanted to keep it as small as possible.”

“Still offended.” Niall informs him.

All in all, Louis thinks Niall takes it fairly well.

 

 

_January_

 

Zayn’s twenty ninth birthday coincides with his first art showing of the year.

(“Louis!” Zayn had said excitedly, a week ago as he came in the door. “Louis, you won’t _believe_ what happened!”

“What?” Louis had asked, looking up from the brownies he had been attempting to make.

“I’m going to be featured at the art museum.” Zayn had gushed, eyes alight with his enthusiasm. This was somewhat odd for Zayn, who tended to show his emotions through subtle microexpressions. Zayn’s full face lit up like Christmas meant that he was beyond happy. “That painting I did, remember? The one with all the blues and greens? They loved it.”)

Louis did remember. The painting had been one of Zayn’s attempts at abstract art, and Louis couldn’t tell for the life of him what exactly it was supposed to be of, but he could more than appreciate the careful swirl of colors and the time that Zayn had spent on it.

Even looking at it now, Louis isn’t quite sure what inspired Zayn. It’s definitely one of Zayn’s better works though, and Louis is proud of him for it.

He glances around the special exhibit for Up And Coming Artists that Zayn is featured in. The event is held in a small wing of the museum, and it’s definitely the most posh occasion Louis has been to in months. There are a few other paintings, too, as well as some sculptures and photographs. It’s a fairly small exhibit, and Louis knows this means the process of picking what would be showcased was extremely selective.

“Those are the judges,” Zayn murmurs lowly from where he is standing next to Louis, tugging nervously at his tie. He nods subtly in the direction of three people who are slowly making their way from piece to piece as a group.

One of them, an elderly woman with round-rimmed glasses and puckered lips, is frowning disapprovingly at nearly every piece they look at. Another, a chubby, jovial man with his hair styled in such a way that Louis suspects he is hiding a bald spot, seems to be pleased with all the artwork. The third, a tall, stoic man with dark hair has maintained a neutral expression the entire time, seeming utterly bored.

“Jesus.” Louis comments, eyebrows raised as he watches them make their rounds. “They’re the full spectrum, aren’t they?”

Zayn nods, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt. “Yeah."

Louis bats at Zayn’s hands, stopping him from toying with the button at the cuff of his sleeve. “Stop fiddling with your suit, it makes you look nervous.”

“I _am_ nervous.” Zayn hisses, rolling his eyes at Louis.

“Yeah, well if you mess up your shirt I’m going to be forced to fix it for you, and then we’ll look every bit the domestic married couple we’re pretending not to be.” Louis says.

Zayn sighs, but relents, letting his hands fall to his sides, fingers still twitching anxiously for something to distract them. “You’re right.”

“You’d do well to learn early on that I’m always right,” Louis says, parroting what Zayn had told him only a couple of weeks before.

Zayn rolls his eyes again, playing with his bare ring finger. Louis automatically swats his hands away from each other, but he understands the nerves that Zayn is dealing with. “Are you trying to look married?” Louis hisses. “Play with a different finger for fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry.” Zayn shakes his head, seeming to hope the motion will clear his mind. “Subconscious thing. Feels weird to not be wearing the ring after so long with it on.”

Louis nods in agreement. He feels the same way.

Zayn had asked him to accompany him to the event as simply his flatmate, so they had left their rings and teasing terms of endearment at home. The judging for awards was fierce and often personal, and despite it being the 21st century Zayn hadn’t wanted to risk the judges discriminating against him because of his sexuality.

There’s a moment of quiet as the judges analyze a sculpture in the middle of the room, and Louis studies them as he sips on his glass of complimentary champagne.

“Do you think you could-” Zayn starts to ask suddenly.

“On it.” Louis interrupts, anticipating Zayn’s request for him to eavesdrop on what the judges say about his art before the words are fully formed.

He doesn’t have to look at Zayn to know that he’s smiling softly.

Louis pushes away from the wall they had been leaning against, and Zayn gives him a nod of thanks. He idly makes his way towards Zayn’s work, taking a roundabout way to avoid seeming like he has a destination.

He supposes it’s helpful to scope out Zayn’s competition, anyways, gauging the level of the other paintings and photographs around the room. There’s a black and white collage that particularly catches his eye. Each individual photo seems good enough to be displayed on its own in Louis’ opinion, and the combination of them all together is incredible.

“Like what you see?” A deep voice comes from besides him, and Louis startles.

“Hmm?” Louis hums, doing his best to appear composed as he turns to face the speaker. He thinks there was something else he originally planned to say, but as he meets the gaze of the curious green eyes blinking back at him, whatever comment he had in mind is immediately forgotten.

“’s mine.” The man explains, turning away from Louis to narrow his eyes critically at his own pictures displayed on the wall. “Bit of a rushed job, if I say so myself. Came out decently for the time I put into it, I suppose.”

 Louis falters, still staring at the man. He is quite possibly the most breathtaking person Louis has encountered in years. He’s tall enough that Louis has to look up at him, his long legs stretching for what seems like forever in their tight jeans. He’s wearing a sheer shirt partially unbuttoned, as if the thin fabric doesn’t already put the swirls of his tattoos and lines of his abs on display.  He has long hair, curling around his ears and his neck, and his voice is deep and slow as molasses. He is all long limbs and curly brown hair and dimples as deep as his voice is, and Louis has never wanted anyone more.

“What do you think?” The man prods, and Louis belatedly realises that he hasn’t responded.

“Erm…” Louis says slowly, taking a sip of champagne to steady himself as he tries to come up with something to say that doesn’t reveal how removed from the world of art he actually is. He tries to think of what Zayn might say, and _shit_ \- Zayn.

He can’t be trying to impress this beautiful photographer now, when he is supporting his best mate and _husband_ on his _birthday_ at an event his art is featured in. Louis hasn’t been rendered speechless by anything, much less a person, in ages. And now, not even one month after getting married to Zayn, is certainly not the time to start.

“I think it’s a bit dull. There’s no focus.” A nasally female voice comes from behind his shoulder, and Louis nearly jumps out of his skin.

Evidently, he needs to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings. Caught up with talking to the handsome photographer, he had lost track of the group of judges who are apparently right behind him.

“It’s a nice collection, though. The pictures complement each other nicely.” The second judge says, and a glance at the redness of his face has Louis wondering just how many flutes of free champagne he has drunk so far.

He notices then that the stunning photographer has slipped away, though whether it’s to preserve the integrity of the judging or for the sake of his own ego, Louis doesn’t know.

“There’s no emotion.” The third judge says in monotone, and if that isn’t the most ironic thing Louis has heard, he doesn’t know what is.

Louis blinks at the collage in front of him in bewilderment. He’s somewhat afraid to move, as if he’s clinging to the hope that they won’t pay any attention to his presence if he is able to keep completely still. He considers sneaking a glance towards Zayn, but he thinks that might do more harm than good.

Unfortunately, Louis has never been good at controlling the filter on his mouth, nor at self-preservation. He’s blurting out before he can stop himself, “But the pictures fit together so well.”

It’s true, Louis thinks. They’re shots of London, showing the city from different perspectives. Bustling streets contrasted with empty alleyways. The London Eye next to an abandoned Ferris wheel. A smiling businessman, eyes crinkling happily, and a homeless man, eyes cast down. _The City No One Sees_ , _by Harry Styles_ reads the plaque underneath the frame.

All three judges are gaping at him now, and Louis realises he definitely should not have said anything. The woman looks absolutely appalled at his nerve, the cheery one seeming mildly amused, and the last completely impassive.

“I mean…” Louis falters, before plowing ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound, as his mum used to say. “It’s an argument,” Louis gestures vaguely towards the pictures. “That there’s so much happening beneath the surface image, the tourist viewpoint, of what London is.”

There’s a long beat of silence, and Louis swallows the last of his champagne as if it were a shot.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, cheeks heated. “It’s certainly not my place to say, but I can at least appreciate it.”

The woman sniffs in disdain, peering at him over her glasses. “And who, exactly, are you?”

“Ah.” Louis hesitates. “My name is Louis.”

“Well, Louis. I agree.” She tells him, and Louis blinks in surprise. “ _But_ ,” She continues sharply at his pleased expression. “You are clearly unfamiliar with Styles’ other works.”

This is true. Louis shrugs modestly. “I’m afraid so.”

“This is typical of him.” The second judge tells him with a rueful smile. “He has potential, which shines through in every work he turns out. But there’s never anything _more_.”

“No emotion.” Repeats the third judge, sounding every bit as bored as he looks. “It doesn’t make you _feel_ anything.”

Louis seriously doubts this judge has felt anything recently. He almost says as much, but catches himself. This is definitely more of an interaction than he was ever supposed to have with the judging team.

“I see.” Louis says politely instead. “Well, thank you for enlightening me.”

It’s a touch sarcastic, but none of the judges seem to catch on. They make some marks on their clipboards, before moving along to the neighboring piece, Zayn’s.

Louis sighs in relief as he is brought back to the task at hand, namely listening in on what the judges have to say about Zayn’s work. He keeps himself where he is, positioned within earshot as he pretends to continue to study the collage of photos in front of him.

The comments the judges have for Zayn are surprisingly good, ranging from “abstract art, a personal favourite of mine” to “my, look at the expertise of the brush strokes”.

“It takes you away for a bit, doesn’t it?” The cheerful judge comments, and Louis risks a glance at him, smiling. The piece had given him a bit of a hypnotic trance the first time Zayn had revealed it to him, too.

The other judges agree, pens scribbling in unison before they continue on.

Louis breathes a sigh of relief, grateful to be forgotten. Zayn will give him hell for interacting with them at all later, but hopefully the news of what he’s overhead will be worthwhile enough to make up for it.

Louis doubts it would be noticed if he made a beeline straight for where Zayn is hovering by the sculptures, but he’s on thin enough ice with his best friend as is after his stunt of speaking to the judges. So Louis dawdles, grabbing for another champagne flute and pretending to be interested in some of the other works.

He’s staring blankly at a portrait of a young girl when someone nudges his shoulder. “Hey,” A familiar deep voice says, and Louis swallows his sip of champagne with an apprehensive gulp.

“Hello again.” He says, his voice a slightly higher pitch than it usually is.

“Couldn’t help but overhear you defending my honor just now,” The photographer – Harry, Louis’ brain supplies as he recalls the plaque underneath the collage, Harry Styles – says.

He turns to find him staring at Louis intently, lips twitched up into a smug smile. Louis raises an eyebrow, feigning to be unimpressed. “Is that what you thought it was?” He asks nonchalantly. “No, I just thought they were being a bit unfair to the artwork is all.”

Harry Styles is smirking at him unabashedly now, his left cheek dimpling and his eyebrows raised in amusement. “Ah, defender of the art, are you? Well, how noble of you. I don’t believe I caught your name, though. I’m Harry.”

Louis presses his lips together thoughtfully. This is not flirting. There’s no way this is flirting. “Louis,” He replies.

Harry nods, extending a hand, and Louis willingly shakes it.

“Well,” Harry says, and it’s low and seductive in a way that Louis can’t tell if it’s intentional or if he just hasn’t gotten laid in so long that his mind is playing tricks on him. “Louis.”

They’ve been holding hands for a bit too long, Harry’s thumb rubbing in a soft circle at the back of his hand, and Louis feels like he could scream. Zayn is probably standing over by the door watching the whole exchange, but Louis can’t bring himself to care when there’s a pretty pale boy in front of him, all long limbs and long curls, wide smiles and broad shoulders, large hands and red lips. Louis wants to wreck him.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Harry asks, a surprisingly earnest smile on his face.

Louis’ mouth flounders open, but he is saved from answering by the clinking sound of someone tapping a fork against the glass of their champagne flute.

He drops Harry’s hand immediately, slapping his own hand down harshly against the side of his thigh, and scans the room for the source of the sound in favor of answering Harry.

“Your attention please.” It’s the third judge, and his flat voice cuts effectively through the quiet chatter in the wing. “We will be announcing awards in two minutes.”

Louis swallows, shrugging apologetically at Harry. “And miss the awards?” He asks, making an exaggerated look of shock. “Never. I’ve got to find out if my defense of your art has held up or not, at least, don’t I?”

Harry is grinning, and Louis finds himself mirroring the smile. “Afterwards, then.” Harry says, sounding urgent. His eyes are bright and eager, his smile inviting, and Louis wants nothing more than to give in.

“Can’t.” Louis says, trying not to look too affected by the way Harry’s face falls. “Plans already, celebrating this show with my…mate. It’s his birthday.”

Harry nods in understanding, and Louis gives him a weak smile.

He’s ready to tell Harry it was nice to meet him, give him a friendly wink, and walk away. He’s ready to never see Harry again in his life.

What he’s not ready for, is for Harry to offer up a slip of paper, smirk back on his lips once more.

“What’s this, then?” Louis asks, taking the card from Harry. It’s made of quality paper, thick and professional.

“My business card.” Harry answers easily, like it should be obvious.

Which, Louis supposes it is obvious, now that he’s looking at it. It just seemed sudden and odd given the circumstances.

“Great.” Louis deadpans. “I’ll pass this out to anyone I know who’s interested in buying some ace photos.”

Harry chuckles, shrugging. “That’s not why I intended for you to have it, but I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “What’s this for then?”

Harry Styles Photography, it reads on the front.

“For a defender of art, you aren’t very observant.” Harry tells him, teasing.

Louis looks up in indignation, and Harry smiles easily. Then he’s stepping closer, leaning in so that his lips brush against the shell of Louis’ ear as he whispers, “Check the back,” before stepping past Louis, and walking away.

Louis swallows, feet rooted to the spot as he hastily flips the card over.

Printed neatly on the back, is a phone number.

 

-

 

“So… are you going to call him?” Zayn asks the next day through a mouthful of cereal.

Louis blinks up at Zayn, his eyes struggling to focus on his messy-haired friend after having been staring at his phone screen for so long. Zayn is in his pajamas, hair askew and a dribble of milk running down his chin. More than anything, he looks smug - a self-satisfied gleam had appeared in his eye last night after he placed first in the art show awards and hasn’t left since.

“What?” Louis asks after a moment, his brain still slow from sleepiness.

“That guy from yesterday?” Zayn prods, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Louis takes a swig of orange juice, giving Zayn his best look of innocent confusion.

Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes. “You’re a shit actor, Lou.” He says. “Stop pretending like you don’t know what I mean. You were spectacularly drunk last night, in case you didn’t remember. And you’ve always been a chatty drunk. I heard more than enough about dimples and legs last night to have the right to ask you about him.”

Louis huffs, shaking his head as he gives in. “Yeah, alright, I do know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to call him, though. I don’t know what he wants.”

Zayn stares at him for a moment, before throwing a Cheerio at his head. “He wants you, clearly. And that’s the whole point of calling anyways, babe. To find out.”

Louis gives Zayn a glare at the pet name. “Sweetheart,” He emphasizes sarcastically. “I don’t want to call.”

“Why not?” Zayn asks, looking surprised. “He was fit, even I thought so. And he was clearly into you. Even if nothing else goes right, you’ll at least get a decent one night stand.”

Louis laughs, shrugging. “I’m not _that_ desperate, thanks.”

“You are, though.” Zayn deadpans, softening his words with a wink. “Besides, when’s the last time you met a bloke you were this into? You have to go for it.”

Louis, if only out of spite, doesn’t call. He can meet people just fine on his own, thanks very much.

 

-

 

Louis and Zayn go out partying a fair bit during the remaining weeks of January, but Louis doesn’t meet anyone he remotely fancies.

He tries not to think about the business card hidden in his bedside drawer, tries to convince himself that he hasn’t missed out on anything.

Zayn says “I told you so,” more often than Louis cares to count.

 

 

_February_

 

The next time Louis sees Harry, it’s Valentine’s Day. Louis wonders if it’s symbolic of his life that the only time he seems to encounter the fittest bloke he’s ever seen is when he’s hopelessly unavailable.

He’s on the phone, walking down an aisle in Tesco when it happens.

“Do I have to buy roses? Roses are expensive as fuck, and no offense mate but you aren’t really worth it,” Louis says to Zayn through his mobile as he passes a flower display, eyes widening at the price. “They just wilt and die anyways, I don’t see what the point is.”

“It’s supposed to be a romantic gesture.” Zayn explains. “But yeah, don’t spend money on that.”

“Good.” Louis says, willingly stepping past the flowers and walking towards the vegetable aisle. “Are you sure you want us to stay in and cook? Actually, are you sure you want to spend Valentine’s with me period? I’m sure Liam would be overjoyed if you asked him over.”

“What, and leave you to eat cold pizza on our couch? Not happening.” Zayn dodges his unasked question about Liam, not sounding remorseful at all.

“But it’s _Valentine’s Day_. He fancies you, you know. I can tell.” Louis prods.

“He does not.” Zayn sighs. “We’re friends, Lou. We just get a little enthusiastic at parties sometimes, and mutually find each other attractive.”

Louis laughs at Zayn’s expense. “That’s practically a relationship, mate. Friends who mutually find each other attractive should-”

Louis freezes. There’s a tall figure with long, curly brown hair picking out apples a short distance away from him.

“Should…?” Zayn prods in his ear.

Louis ducks behind a display of oranges. “Fuck.”

“We have fucked.” Zayn reminds him, sounding amused.

“No,” Louis hisses, peeking his head up to double check his vision. “Well,” He pauses thoughtfully. “I suppose, yes, that too, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Zayn asks.

It definitely is the same dashing photographer from the night of the art event. Louis ducks back down, sitting on the floor of the produce section and mumbling “I meant fuck, like fuck me.”

“You want _us_ to fuck?” Zayn sounds mildly disgusted, and Louis wonders if he should be offended.

“Ugh, _no_.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I meant it like fuck my life.”

He risks another glance at Harry, who has decided on his apples – three Granny Smith’s – and is walking away, towards the grapes. Thank God.

“Ah.” Zayn hums in understanding. “What happened?”

“No, first excuse you, don’t think you’re off the hook for how grossed out you sounded just now. I take offense to that.” Louis says, turning back around and frowning even though Zayn can’t see him. “I think I’m a pretty good lay, no? Nice bum, good hair, pretty eyes. What more could you want, Zaynie?”

Zayn is making overdramatic retching noises in his ear, and Louis huffs indignantly.

“Oh, come on,” He complains, self-consciously reaching up to fix his hair. “My bum I think is more than enough to make me a decent and-” A pair of black boots rest in front of Louis, and he glances up, ready to apologize and move so that the owner can reach the orange display. However, instead of a polite apology, a rather embarrassing yelp escapes his lips.

“You good?” Zayn’s voice comes through his ear, and Louis hastily drops his phone to his chest.

“Hello.” Harry Styles, dressed in tight ripped jeans, black boots, and a bomber jacket, is beaming at him, a basket of fruit hooked over his arm.

Louis swallows. “Erm…hey.” He slowly stands up, leaning against the orange display for support, and lifts his phone back to his face to say, “Z?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a catch, and you know it.”

Louis hangs up, turning his attention back to the man in front of him.

Harry is still smiling easily, looking far more amused than he should.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

“Do you make a habit of having phone conversations on the floor in the middle of the produce section?” Harry asks.

Louis flushes. He doesn’t know Harry well enough to be able to tell if it’s teasing or judgement that’s lacing his tone, but regardless he bites out, “No. Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Harry nods, as if he knew this already. Which, considering that Louis hadn’t actually been successful in avoiding him, he probably did. “Because you never called me?” He asks, but there’s no accusation in his voice. He’s smirking, though, looking all too pleased with himself despite never having received a call.

Louis shrugs, not knowing what to say. Harry knows the answer anyways.

“Plans tonight?” Harry asks, shifting the basket in his hands somewhat nervously. It’s cute, Louis notices. He wants desperately to say no, to ask what Harry has in mind, to take him up on his offer.

“Yeah,” Louis says instead, grimacing and holding up his own basket, which is currently holding marinara sauce and nothing else. It’s possibly not the most explanatory gesture, so Louis elaborates “My roommate and I are cooking dinner.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised. “Romantic,” He comments, but it sounds like a question.

Louis laughs, relieved that he can let his true reaction show for once at the thought of being romantic with Zayn. “Nah, we’re just best mates.” And husbands, he thinks. But saying that would complicate things quite a bit.

Harry nods. “Well. I was going to invite you over to mine, but I suppose that would have been moving too fast anyways.”

Louis nods dumbly, not sure what to say to that. “Rain check?” He asks, his mouth acting of its own accord.

“Yeah, sure.” Harry agrees, smiling. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Louis chuckles, smiling back. “You too.”

“It was nice seeing you again.” Harry says, turning to leave. “And by the way, I definitely agree.”

“Agree about what?” Louis asks, confused.

“That you’re a catch.”

He winks, so quickly that Louis nearly misses it, and Louis can’t help the blush that blooms on his face in response.

“Actually call me this time, yeah?” Harry calls out, grinning. He lifts a hand in a wave goodbye, and then is off towards the checkout lanes.

 

-

 

Louis texts Harry the next day, as per Zayn’s advice.

(“Should I call him right now?” Louis had asked frantically, shoving grocery bags into Zayn’s arms immediately after arriving home.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” Zayn had replied. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, but you can’t call anyone tonight. You should have better things to do tonight than try to get someone else’s attention.”

“You’re right.” Louis had agreed. “What would I even say if I called him?”

Zayn had rolled his eyes. “Lou, get ahold of yourself. Text him, then.”)

Zayn had been right, of course.

“I’m doing it!” Louis yells from where he is sprawled on the couch.

“That’s a very vague and concerning statement,” Zayn calls back from the kitchen.

Louis rolls his eyes, even though Zayn can’t see him, and presses ‘Send’.

 

[To: Harry Styles 11:14 AM]  
hey, this is Louis – defender of the art. :)

 

Harry doesn’t text back.

He calls.

Louis’ eyes widen as his phone starts to chime, the stock iPhone marimba playing and the faceless contact of ‘Harry’ popping up on his phone. There’s a camera emoji next to his name that Louis had thought was fitting to identify him from other potential Harry’s in his phone, but now he stares at it in horror, hoping somehow that another Harry is calling him.

Zayn digs through the couch cushions for his own phone, before finding it and frowning at the dark screen. “’S not mine, mate.” Zayn informs him, but Louis already knew that.

Louis nods. He considers taking the coward’s way out and letting the call go to voicemail. At the last second, he decides against it and grabs his phone, sliding his finger across the screen to answer it.

“’llo?” He says, exchanging a nervous glance with Zayn who is watching him knowingly.

“Hi Louis.” Harry’s deep voice rasps into his ear. He sounds different on the phone, more timid. Maybe it’s because of the lack of facial expressions accompanying his words.

Harry doesn’t say anything else, and Louis rolls his eyes. He hates stilted phone conversations – this was the reason he had texted in the first place.

“So… what’s up?” Louis asks after a moment of somewhat uncomfortable quiet.

“Oh!” Harry sounds like he’s only just remembered what he had called for. “Well, I was going to offer for you to take that rain check, but I’ve got to do a bit of work.”

Harry talks slowly, Louis notices. He can’t remember if his words come syrup slow in person as well, but over the phone at least his sentences take ages. Louis can’t tell if Harry is done, or if this is merely a pause between thoughts.

Apparently it was a pause, because Harry is continuing “So, I was wondering if you’d like to come along.”

Louis wonders if he spaced out in the middle of Harry’s sentence and missed something important, because what he’s heard so far doesn’t fully make sense. “Sorry,” He says, confused. “Come along for what?”

“Perfect.” Harry says, and Louis can hear the smile in his words. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll text you the address, and you can come whenever.”

There’s another pause that Louis can’t tell if it’s really a pause or not, and then Harry is saying “See you soon!” and hanging up.

Louis blinks at his phone, slowly bringing it down from his ear.

“That was unsatisfying eavesdropping.” Zayn informs him, looking unimpressed. “You hardly said ten words.”

“It was an unsatisfying conversation.” Louis says, still looking dumbfounded at his phone, which chimes happily with a text from Harry. “But I guess we’re going to meet up?”

Zayn smiles wide, pumping a fist. “Go get ‘im!”

Louis sticks his tongue out at Zayn, but he’s smiling too. “Shh, you’re not supposed to encourage me – you’re my _husband_.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, reaching over to tug the silver ring off of Louis’ left hand. “Not today,” He says. “Be safe, use a condom.”

Louis glares at him, but there’s no venom in it. “We aren’t going to have sex.”

“Shame.” Zayn tuts. “You need it. It’s been a while.”

Louis postpones getting ready to meet up with Harry in favor of tackling his insufferable husband down on the couch, attacking him with a pillow to the face.

 

-

 

When Louis shows up at the address Harry had texted him, he was expecting to arrive at an apartment building. A house would have been surprising, but not out of the ordinary. Maybe even a hotel.

Louis squints at the numbers on his phone, using a hand to shield the screen from the sun as he checks that yep, he’s at the right place.

Louis steps up to the door of what seems to be an abandoned warehouse, knocking tentatively. “Hello?”

The door creaks open at his touch. Louis tries not to look too apprehensive, 99% convinced that this is a prank of some sort.

The inside of the warehouse, at least, is not as unsettling as Louis had expected it to be. For one thing, it’s clean. The wooden floors seem freshly scrubbed, the tall window panes clear, and the rafters free of cobwebs.

And then there’s Harry, rushing towards the door, face flushed and curls askew. “Hey, glad you made it.” He says, and it’s earnest, accompanied by a dimpled smile.

Louis isn’t sure if Harry is waiting for something or not – a handshake? a hug? – but the man seems content to grin at him expectantly.

“Yeah.” Louis says after a moment. “Of course.”

Harry looks pleased, turning and waving for Louis to follow him deeper into the warehouse.

“What, erm… what exactly are we doing here?” Louis asks. Not that it matters – he’s already following Harry anyways.

Harry gives him a questioning look, as if _he_ is the one who doesn’t make sense, and guides him to the far end of the warehouse. His camera is set up on a tripod, along with some other equipment that Louis assumes has to do with controlling the light and exposure.

“Oh,” Louis says in understanding. “Is this your latest inspiration?”

Harry turns to him, lips quirking into a shy smile. “Something like that,” He says.

“Cool.” Louis claps his hands, content to stand to the side and watch Harry at work.

“Actually…” Harry says slowly, blinking up at him despite being significantly taller than him.

Louis raises his eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’ve been here all morning already.” Harry says. “Taking pictures of this place. But there’s something missing, you know? The ‘emotion’ or whatever.”

“Okay…” Louis says, nodding. “And?”

“And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I took some pictures of you.” Harry finishes, flushing.

He looks unsure of himself, biting his lip nervously as he gauges Louis’ reaction. Louis feels his own eyes widen at the words, pointing to himself as he squeaks “Me?”

It doesn’t make sense, is the thing. He’s far from model material, especially compared to Harry himself. Harry is wearing a white tee, layered with a red flannel and a denim shirt. There’s a bandana tied in his hair, presumably to keep his curls from his face as he works although it doesn’t seem to be doing much good, and he’s in his classic tight jeans and boots. It’s a unique look, but it definitely works for him.

Louis is acutely aware of how casually dressed he is, and not even in a stylish way. His hair looks good, as he had time to do it this morning, but he’s wearing a simple white tee with black jeans and a jacket. He’s sure he looks decent – the scoop neck of the shirt reveals the tips of the tattoo on his chest in a way Zayn approves of when they go clubbing – but not nearly good enough to be photographed.

“Please?” Harry asks, green eyes pleading. Louis thinks it might be a bad sign that he already can’t stand to say no to him.

“Alright.” Louis agrees, scuffing a shoe against the wood floor. “But you’ve got to like… walk me through it, yeah? ‘m not a model.”

“You could be,” Harry murmurs lowly, and Louis feels his cheeks go red at the comment.

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that – he’s always been bad at receiving compliments – but Harry doesn’t seem to be expecting a response. He’s looking at Louis intently, thoughtful and predatory at the same time.

He’s so gorgeous, Louis can’t help but think as he watches Harry. His features are delicate yet strong, endearing yet attractive, and everything about him makes Louis want to kiss the thoughtful purse of his lips.

Having been still for a while, Louis is startled as Harry suddenly moves, taking off the top layer of his outfit and holding it out.

Louis’ eyes go wide, hungrily watching the motion. But then, Harry tosses the denim shirt at him and points to the closest window pane.

“Put that on, yeah? Blue will bring out your eyes. And if you could stand by the window for me?” Harry instructs kindly.

Louis flushes, shaking his head to clear it and quickly replacing his jacket with the shirt.

It’s huge, is the thing. Louis has to roll up the sleeves four times to get them to a decent length on his own arms, and even then the length of the shirt reaches far past his thighs.

“Jesus, I’m drowning in this.” Louis grumbles, moving to stand by the window as he was told to. “Alright. What do I do?”

Harry peers through his camera at Louis before answering. “Well, what does this warehouse make you feel? Like, what are you feeling now?”

“Erm.” Louis blinks at Harry, who looks fucking edible in his red flannel. What is he feeling? He feels very much like inhaling the scent on this giant shirt, like pressing Harry’s lips against his own, like sucking a mark at the pale crook of his neck. But he can’t say _that_. “Adventurous,” He says instead.

“Great.” Harry tells him. “Try to look adventurous.”

Louis makes a face. What the fuck does adventurous look like? Ultimately, he settles for interpreting that as ‘try not to look like you want to drop to your knees in front of me,’ figuring if he can keep a lustful gaze out of the picture it will be at least a step in the right direction.

“You look a bit silly,” Harry admits after a few clicks of his shutter, and Louis immediately drops the curiously intrigued look he was trying to adopt.

He makes a face at Harry, scowling even more when he hears the shutter click again. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Harry clears his throat, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Well, start by looking at the camera.”

Louis looks.

“Maybe a little less death glare, and a little more…smolder?” Harry says, his voice lilting up uncertainly at the end.

Louis grimaces at first, but does his best to look seductive nonetheless.

It’s a bit weird, looking directly at the camera and knowing that rather than pulling the moves on an attractive boy, he is having his look preserved for possibly hundreds of people to see later on.

He tries not to think about that, though. Instead, he focuses on Harry.

Harry’s sinfully red lips, his tongue poking out of the corner in concentration. His unruly hair, threatening to burst from his headscarf and calling out for Louis to run his fingers through it. His green eyes, the feeling of his gaze all over Louis. His long legs, his slim hips, the deft movements of his fingers at his camera.

And the thing is, Louis can’t remember the last time he wanted a person so much. For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty years old now – no longer the young, striking boy that he used to be. He’d been starting to doubt he was capable of feeling attraction like this anymore.

“That’s good.” Harry says, sounding pleased. “Really good. Maybe instead of leaning against the wall, you can look out the window?”

Louis obeys, turning his body as Harry suggested and listening to the following clicks of the camera shutter.

“Okay, now stay like that but turn your head back to face the camera.” Harry instructs, followed by a triumphant “ _Yes_ ” and more shutter sounds.

When Harry pulls back from the camera, his eyes are a touch darker than they had been before. He looks lustful, too, and after a good half hour of making eyes at him, Louis wants nothing more than to kiss him.

“Do I get to see, then?” He asks, motioning to the camera as he steps away from the window and towards Harry.

Harry shakes his head, shutting off the camera with an apologetic shrug. “Not ‘til I’m done. Then you will. Don’t worry, though – I already think the pictures look really good.”

“ _You_ look really good,” Louis says softly, raising his eyebrows innocently when Harry’s darkened gaze snaps up to meet his.

“No,” Harry hesitates, seemingly trying to maintain a professional stance. “You do, in the photos. I think it’s as close to capturing emotion as I’ve ever gotten - there’s a lot of tension in them.”

Louis smirks, stepping even closer to the photographer. “Why, thank you.” He says. “I definitely could feel the tension. We should do something about that, don’t you think?”

Harry hesitates, and Louis wonders what that means. He and Harry had clearly met based on mutual attraction. The only reason he would be hesitating is if this is not how he expected things to go. Had Harry planned on wining and dining him properly first? And if so, what did _that_ mean? Was Harry interested in him as more than a good shag?

But then, Harry’s lips are on his and Louis stops thinking about anything else.

Harry’s hands come up to hold Louis’ face, and Louis leans into it willingly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry kisses him deeply, cradling his face in his hands as he licks into Louis’ mouth with want. It catches Louis off guard, and for a moment all he can do is take what Harry is giving him.

It’s not a proper first kiss. There’s no tentative brushing of lips, no awkward nudging of noses. It’s not the type of first kiss for one night stands in a club either. It’s not sloppy, and Louis is far too sober.

Harry kisses confidently. It’s passionate, assured, and one of the hottest things Louis has ever experienced.

He kisses Harry back for all he’s worth.

“Bloody hell,” Louis breathes out when Harry finally pulls back.

Harry smirks widely at his reaction, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw in a way that has Louis biting back a groan.

“What do you want?” Harry asks, and his voice is somehow deeper now than it was before.

 _Everything_ , Louis thinks desperately, fingers tangling in Harry’s curls. “Anything,” He admits aloud.

Harry’s smirk deepens – Christ, those dimples are going to be the death of Louis – and he maneuvers Louis back against the warehouse wall, trapping him against it with his body. He’s surprisingly gentle in doing so, his fingertips gripping Louis’ biceps with so much care that Louis wants to laugh.

He refrains, and the emotion is expressed instead through the hammering of his heart against his ribs.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ neck, sucking a mark there.

Louis thinks he would normally argue against that particular phrasing, but it’s Harry and he’s desperately hard and minor details like that are taking a backseat in his brain right now.

Harry slots their legs together, grinding down against Louis with a shuddering breath as he says, “Knew from the second I laid eyes on you at that art show that I wanted you.”

Louis feels his cheeks redden, but he groans and cants his hips up against Harry’s. “Me too,” He admits breathlessly. “Couldn’t hardly focus on anything else. I don’t remember ever wanting someone so much.”

It’s honest, but the smug glint in Harry’s eye makes Louis wish he could take back the words.

“You want me?” Harry asks, and Louis can’t help but laugh a little at the statement. Grinding against each other, he thinks it’s quite clear that there’s mutual desire.

“Obviously,” He retorts, rolling his eyes before rocking his hips up against Harry’s deliberately to emphasize his response.

Harry groans, but he looks pleased. He pulls back to shrug off his flannel and slip his shirt over his head, and any other snarky comeback Louis might have had is immediately forgotten.

Harry shirtless is a sight to behold. He is more sculpted than his lean frame suggests when clothed, and Louis can’t help but stare at the defined muscles. He has tattoos too, which were previously covered, and now that they’re revealed Louis can’t stop staring. Harry’s body reminds him of a blank canvas, all stretches of strong pale skin covered in dark swirls of ink.

“You,” Louis says, staring blatantly. “Have a lot of tattoos.”

Harry hums in affirmation, not seeming to mind as Louis lifts a finger to trace gently over the birds beneath his collarbones and the butterfly inked over his abs.

“Jesus.” Louis breathes, brows furrowed in concentration. They aren’t even small tattoos, and he thinks it should make Harry look ridiculous. It doesn’t, though. If anything, it makes Harry even hotter.

“Like what you see?” Harry asks lowly, an echo of his first words to Louis.

Louis chuckles. “Now _this_ is a work of art.”

Harry is smirking again, but the expression is a little less composed now, a desperate gleam in the green of his eyes. “You too,” Harry urges, pausing to give Louis a chance to object before pushing the oversized denim off of his shoulders and tugging his white tee over his head.

“Look at you,” Harry murmurs in awe, eyes raking over the shirtless man in front of him. Louis raises his eyebrows curiously, but Harry clears his throat, shaking his head in dismissal as he amends, “Nothing. You’re hot, is all.”

Louis throws his head back in a laugh at the bluntness of the statement, and Harry seizes the opportunity to latch his lips at Louis’ neck once more. He grazes his teeth over the skin there and Louis’ laugh transforms into something more akin to a moan.

Harry’s hands are everywhere, tangled in his hair, running along his back, tweaking at his nipples, cupping his arse through his jeans. It’s maddening how they never stay in one place for long, and Louis’ senses are overloaded by it all.

They haven’t really done anything yet, both still partly clothed, and yet Louis can’t remember the last time someone has touched him with such want, or looked at him with such need. At least, not without a heavy dose of alcohol first.

It’s intoxicating in itself, being touched by Harry. Louis’ nerves are alight where Harry’s fingertips trail, and he is so hard that he’s torn between trying not to think about it and not being able to think about anything else.

Then, Harry’s lips are brushing down along his chest and stomach, and he is dropping to his knees, unbidden. Louis is pretty sure he could come in his pants if Harry asked him to.

“This alright?” Harry asks, long fingers reaching to unbutton Louis’ trousers.

“God, yes. More than alright.” Louis says, wincing at how desperate his voice sounds.

Harry tugs down his trousers with some effort – they’re his pulling jeans, the tightest pair he owns and had taken him a decent amount of lunging, jumping, and squatting around Zayn’s room to get them on in the first place – before slipping down his pants as well and freeing his cock.

Harry’s hand is warm around his cock, and feels huge in comparison to how his own hand usually feels. It’s not enough though, just a tease, and Louis is just about to complain when suddenly Harry takes him into his mouth, sucking his length deep right away.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis chokes out, grasping at the wall as his knees give out.

Harry pulls off with a satisfied smirk, but his eyes are blown wide and there’s spit at the corner of his mouth, so he doesn’t quite succeed in looking put-together.

“You’re big,” Harry comments idly, stroking Louis’ length almost absently as he speaks. “Not that I’m surprised, but. It’s nice. You have a nice dick.”

“Th-thanks.” Louis shudders, reaching down to brush at the spit at the corner of Harry’s lips. Harry licks at his finger, blinking up at him through hooded eyes before moving to drag his tongue up the underside of Louis’ cock without breaking eye contact.

Louis groans, and Harry swirls his tongue around the tip. He’s not smirking, but Louis knows if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, he definitely would be.

If Harry kisses with careful precision, the way he gives a blowjob is the exact opposite. It doesn’t seem confident, but rather curious, as if he is making one move at a time and pausing afterwards to gauge Louis’ reaction.

It’s hot but it’s slow, and Louis feels as though he has been brought to the edge multiple times only to have Harry pull off and make a comment, leaving him too close and yet too far from the sweet relief of climax.

“Are you into fingering?” Harry asks calmly as he pulls off for what feels like the umpteenth time, and Louis’ eyes bug out at him in disbelief. He says it as casually as if they are discussing the weather over a cup of coffee, not as if they’re discussing sexual activities while he literally has Louis’ cock in his mouth.

During the time it takes Louis to answer, Harry takes Louis’ cock back fully in his mouth, sucking blissfully at it. When no response comes, Harry nudges Louis’ legs further apart, brushing a finger teasingly at his hole.

“ _Jesus_.” Louis arches instinctively, the movement so quick that he bangs his head against the warehouse wall. “Fuck. Yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.” Harry hums in interest around his cock before pulling off again, leaving Louis gasping at the vibrations. “Rimming too, then? I mean, I would assume.”

Louis can’t help but stare at him. “I…yes.” He answers cautiously. “Why are you – oh fuck,” Louis groans, his question forgotten as Harry deepthroats him once more.

Harry pulls off again moments later, as Louis’ legs begin to tremble with need. “I’m asking you this now because I’ve found that people are more honest when their guard is down. Which most often happens when they’re thinking about other things.” He explains simply, mouthing against Louis’ cock as he speaks. “So, are you a top or a bottom?”

“I feel like,” Louis gasps out desperately, one hand abandoning where his fingernails are digging into the wall to fist in Harry’s curls, urging him to take Louis’ cock back into his mouth. “This is really a conversation best had post-orgasm.”

Harry makes a ‘tsk’ sound, looking disagreeable. “Nope.”

Louis whines in frustration, far beyond caring about his needy noises now. “Fine, both are fine.”

Harry’s mouth remains stubbornly away from his cock, but his hand begins its stroking motions again so Louis counts it as a win. “But which do you prefer?” When Louis doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to rock his hips in time with Harry’s hand, Harry continues lowly, “You know what I think? I think you like to bottom.”

It’s possibly the worst dirty talk Louis has ever experienced. He doesn’t sound _dirty_ , is the thing. He sounds thoughtful, musing. Conversational. Somehow, it’s arousing nonetheless.

Then again, Louis is beyond hard. Anything would be arousing at this point.

“I think you like to be taken care of.” Harry continues.

Louis isn’t sure if this is even supposed to be dirty talk, but there’s a hand gripping his cock so he really can’t complain.

“I bet you like it rough.” Harry says.

The words are coming syrup slow and Louis lost patience for this about three questions ago.

“Harry?” He interrupts.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” Louis hisses, gripping Harry’s head by his curls and tugging him back towards Louis’ cock.

It’s not nearly harsh enough to actually force Harry to take his length back into his mouth, so Louis moans with audible relief as Harry actually chooses to do so.

Harry sucks at him eagerly, enthusiastically even, and it’s not long before Louis is at the edge again. “Oh God,” He gasps out. “Harry, H, I’m gonna-” He’s gulping for air, toes curling in anticipation. After being brought to the edge so many times, it feels like an explosive orgasm is impending. “Gonna come, if you wanna. Like, you can, you know. If you need. Or if you don’t want.”

Louis is pretty sure he’s babbling now, not making any coherent sense. He’s also pretty sure that whatever collected frame of mind he previously had is currently being sucked out of his cock, so he thinks it’s understandable that he’s struggling to form a sentence.

Harry, surprisingly, doesn’t pull off this time. If anything, he redoubles his efforts, fondling at Louis’ balls as his mouth works its magic on his cock.

It’s entirely possible that Louis’ vision goes black as he comes. He doesn’t really know, doesn’t remember anything other than the intensity of the pleasure that radiates within him as it happens.

Then he’s panting, unable to get enough air as his senses slowly fade back into consciousness. He slumps against the wall behind him, legs trembling as he slides down to sit on the ground next to Harry, who is looking far too smug.

“Holy fuck.” Louis tells Harry, breathing deeply to steady himself. Harry looks far too satisfied with himself, so he amends quickly “I think that was the worst blowjob of my life.”

Harry clearly doesn’t believe him for a second, barking out a laugh as he counters, “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I nearly sucked you into unconsciousness there.”

Louis shakes his head weakly, but he doesn’t have it in him to argue.

It takes him a moment before he realises that Harry must still be unbearably hard, and he hasn’t yet reciprocated. “Do you want me to er.. I mean, what do _you_ want?” He asks suddenly, sitting up straight and letting his eyes skim over Harry’s body hungrily.

“You don’t have to-” Harry starts to say.

Louis cuts him off with a scoff. “I want to.” He says. “Now, c’mon. Tell me what you need, hot shot.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at the nickname, shaking his head. “I know, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you don’t have to do anything because erm…if it’s okay? Can I um.. come on you?”

“Christ.” Louis breathes, but he’s nodding as he says it. “’Course.”

Harry already has a hand on himself, jerking at his cock desperately. He attempts a kiss, and it’s a little weird because of the angle, a little sloppy because they’re both distracted, but nice nonetheless.

Harry makes these low breathy moans, Louis notes, and they’re the hottest thing he’s heard in a long time. Then, Harry’s groans get a little longer, a little louder and he’s gasping out “Okay, Lou, God I’m gonna-”

“Yeah,” Louis says, and it comes out bordering on reverent. To be fair, Harry has an excellent dick, and Louis thinks it would probably be worth worshipping. “Yeah, come for me.”

He positions himself in front of Harry, and moments later there’s a shout from Harry accompanied by warm spurts landing on his chest, and even some on his face. Louis will probably wank to this image of Harry, body shaking and mouth rounded in an ‘O’ as he comes, for the rest of his life.

“Fuck.” Harry whispers, body trembling with pleasure as he flops down next to Louis. “You’re so hot.”

His headscarf is dangling askew, and he reaches up to untie it from his head, spreading out the material before using to mop up the mess he’s made, currently pooling on Louis’ abs and dripping towards his chin.

“Are you a cuddler?” Harry asks then, and Louis can’t help but smile.

“Yes.” He answers, and Harry gives him a nod of approval.

“In that case, next time,” Harry tells him. “We’ll do this somewhere with a bed.”

“Next time,” Louis agrees with a small grin.

 

-

 

Zayn lets out a low whistle when Louis finally stumbles through the door to their flat later that evening. His eyes rake over Louis’ appearance, full of mirth.

“Shut up.” Louis snaps, even though Zayn hasn’t said anything. “I know.”

Louis is aware of how wrecked he looks, especially in comparison to how put-together he was when he had first left the flat. His hair is a disheveled mess, his clothes rumpled, and he’s now wearing Harry’s oversized denim shirt over his own outfit.

“I didn’t say anything.” Zayn says, deliberately letting his eyes wander over Louis’ outfit, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “But if I were to say something,” He continues with a smile. “I’d say thank god, because whatever happened between the two of you was definitely needed.”

“Shut up,” Louis repeats, fixing Zayn with a cold glare. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t have the intended effect, though – his eyes still feel somewhat glassy and Zayn is largely immune to his best venomous looks anyways.

Zayn is grinning, eyes twinkling mischievously. “So, when will you see him again?”

“Next time.” Louis tells him, shrugging. “Whenever that is.”

 

 

_March_

 

Next time doesn’t happen right away, or anytime soon at all.

Louis is too proud to text Harry, especially when he remembers that his first text to him is still sitting in their message history, unanswered. Harry hasn’t made any attempt to contact him either, and Louis gradually stops wondering if he will.

He falls back into the familiar routine of going to work and chilling at the flat with Zayn, and it’s easy and familiar. Harry fades from his thoughts, only resurfacing occasionally when he gets himself off.

In fact, the next time he sees Harry is completely by coincidence.

It’s Saint Patrick’s Day and music is blasting throughout Niall’s flat, playing something upbeat that Louis doesn’t recognize. Niall is eagerly doing a drunken Irish jig, head thrown back in laughter as he attempts to take a swig of beer without stilling his feet and spilling the drink down his front.

“You try mate, you’ve got the legs for Irish dancing.” Niall tells him eagerly, eyes bright and encouraging.

Louis isn’t sure what he means by that – his legs aren’t usually his most notable feature after all – but he’s had far too many suspiciously green colored shots to care. Zayn plunks a bright green top hat on his head, and Louis willingly laughs and begins an attempt at a jig that has Niall howling with laughter and retracting his previous statement.

He feels young again, continuing to attempt to dance until Zayn forcibly stops him by wrapping his arms around Louis.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Zayn laughs, holding him tight to keep him still.

Louis sticks his tongue out at Zayn, halfheartedly attempting to wriggle free. “I’m _young_.” He says. “And free.”

“Not free. Not to dance like that.” Zayn tells him, Niall laughing in agreement.

“Also,” Zayn says, lowering his voice. He gives Louis a look that he usually uses when he’s trying to pull, leaning in to brush his lips against Louis’ ear and whispering lowly “You’re being watched.”

Louis very nearly shoves Zayn away, ready to spit out a “what the fuck, man, get off of me,” when he sees him. Harry Styles is leaning against the far wall, eyes glued to the unit that is Louis and Zayn’s bodies pressed together with a stony gaze.

Louis quirks up an eyebrow, turning to smirk at Zayn. “Have I mentioned how much fun it is to make someone jealous?”

“Christ, no. That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Zayn groans. “I told you so that you could go over there and talk to him.”

“Talk to him?” Louis asks, crinkling his nose in confusion. “What would I say? Hey, I noticed you staring jealously at me and my non-husband after a month of not contacting me, so would you maybe want to do the thing where we get in each other’s pants again?”

Zayn sighs, and Louis grins triumphantly at his lack of response. “Fine, go rub up on someone fit then.”

Louis rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around Zayn’s neck to look him seriously in the eye. “Zayn.” He says, face solemn. “You’re my husband.”

Zayn grabs at his left hand for emphasis, hissing “Not tonight! No ring, no husband.”

“Zaynie…” Louis pouts, swaying his hips sensually, not fitting well with the music at all.

Niall is watching them with a furrowed brow, before his eyes follow Zayn’s gaze to lock on Harry’s. “Oh! My mate Harry, did you guys want to meet him?”

“What?” Louis squeaks out, jerking away from Zayn.

Zayn rests his arm on Louis’ shoulder, supporting himself as he laughs.

“No, no need.” Louis says quickly. “He and I are definitely…acquainted.”

His words are lost over the sound of a banjo playing, and friendly, fun-loving Niall is bounding off to the tall, curly-haired lad’s side.

“Jesus Christ.” Louis curses, glaring at Zayn as if this is somehow his fault.

“Oh, stop. I’m sure you can probably still get in his pants.” Zayn says, mockingly consoling. Before Louis can retort, Zayn is reaching up to remove the top hat from his head, quickly fixing his fringe. “Better.” He says afterwards, eyeing Louis critically. “Now you can definitely get into his pants.”

Louis is about to snap at his husband, but Niall interrupts them with a cheerful shout as he comes back over, holding a recently refilled cup of beer in one hand and tugging Harry by the arm with the other.

“This is Harry!” Niall says enthusiastically, looking pleased with himself. He’s drunk far too much, his cheeks a rosy red and his smile loose and easy, so Louis can’t really blame him for the admittedly uncomfortable introduction.

“Hey, Harry.” Zayn says, when Louis fails to reply. He extends a hand, moving subtly away from Louis. “I’m Zayn.”

“’S nice to meet you,” Harry says politely, but his smile is strained, his eyes flicking over Zayn as if he’s competition.

Reintroducing himself feels too much like erasing their first encounters, so Louis doesn’t say anything.

This turns out to be a mistake, because Zayn continues for him. “And this is Louis. We live together.”

Louis whips to face Zayn, Niall’s eyes also bulging a bit in surprise.

“Not in a weird way,” Louis blurts. “In separate rooms. We’re roommates.” He rushes to clarify.

“Not in a _weird_ way?” Niall demands, eyes flicking from Louis to Zayn and back.

He’s drunk, and looks seconds away from explaining that if there’s a weird way to live together, Louis and Zayn have got it down pat. As it turns out, Zayn beats him to it.

“Also, we’re married.” Zayn says flatly.

Louis chokes on his beer, nearly spraying it at Zayn’s face.

“Oh, come on,” Zayn says, laughing loudly and clapping at Louis’ back as he struggles to swallow. “You’re so easy to make fun of, I can’t help myself. Also, rude. What kind of reaction is that to us getting married?”

Louis is frozen, looking at Zayn in bewilderment. He sees what Zayn is doing now, revealing the fact that they are married without actually doing so. This way Harry can come to the conclusion that Louis and Zayn aren’t anything serious without him having to lie. It’s clever, devious, and makes Louis feel somewhat sick.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he tells himself. Zayn clearly approves of the situation, so it’s not like he’s wronging his legal husband in any way. And as for Harry, well, Harry hasn’t contacted him for four weeks now. It’s not as if they’re in a relationship of any kind. No harm done.

“Sorry, mate.” Louis says, forcing a laugh. “Jesus, nearly choked to death thinking about it.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, smacking a sloppy kiss at Louis’ temple and saying fondly “Yeah, you hate me. I know.” Then, looking at Harry. “Nice meeting you, mate. Be safe, use a condom.” He slaps Louis on the back once more for good measure before wandering off.

“Erm.” Niall says, clearing his throat and giving Louis a weird look. “I’m going to go with him. Reunite him with Liam – he should be around here somewhere.”

Louis flashes him a thumbs up.

“Who’s Liam?” Harry asks, and Louis grins.

“The bloke whose pants Zayn wants to get into,” Louis replies honestly. It contributes to Harry’s defensive gaze softening, and Louis tries not to feel too bad for not being fully honest about his relationship with Zayn.

“Well, speaking of wanting to get into someone’s pants,” Harry says, grinning cheesily and Louis laughs.

“Did you miss me, then?” Louis asks, teasing.

“I did.” Harry says, meeting his gaze. He’s probably a bit tipsy, Louis thinks, but his eyes are serious.

“Let’s do something about that then, hmm?” Louis suggests, smiling coyly. Harry shrugs, and Louis grabs his hand, tugging him to the dance floor.

Harry, it turns out, cannot dance to save his life.

It’s hilarious, watching the normally composed photographer drunkenly shimmying to the music, arms swinging around uncoordinatedly. After Harry accidentally swats his shoulder for the third time, Louis laughs and grabs for his hands, placing them at his waist instead. This allows him to get closer to Harry, their chests now flush to each other as he grinds against the taller man.

Louis tangles a hand in Harry’s curls, tilting his head down and leaning upwards to connect their lips.

But Harry shakes his head, pulling back and murmuring lowly instead, “What do you say we take this somewhere else?”

Louis blinks in surprise, but nods nonetheless. “Yeah, sure. ‘Course. Niall’s got a spare room upstairs?”

“He won’t mind?” Harry asks, looking doubtful.

Louis shrugs, nodding. Niall has had his fair share of shags at his flat during their Christmas Eve parties – he’s pretty sure it’s only fair if he’s allowed the same.

Harry still looks uncertain, but Louis grins at him confidently. “Trust me.” He says, before leading the way through the dancing bodies towards the stairs.

Niall’s guest room is simple, a large bed in the center of the room with a nightstand on the left side. Louis wastes no time in pushing Harry towards the bed, locking the door behind them, and slipping off his shirt.

“C’mon.” He urges Harry, seeing that the man is laying fully clothed on the bed. “Strip for me, love.”

“You’re so gorgeous.” Harry murmurs, gaze locked on Louis as he steps out of his trousers.

It’s too sweet for the situation, and Louis doesn’t know how to respond anyways, so he presses their lips together, laying his body over Harry’s as he kisses him deeply.

“Never had anyone like you,” Harry continues, mumbling the words into the kiss.

Louis shushes him by nipping at his bottom lip, hands working their way towards Harry’s belt to undo the buckle. Harry willingly stretches his arms up, pulling his shirt off over his head as Louis tugs down his pants.

“Want to ride you.” Louis says quietly, drinking in the sight of Harry’s body laying beneath him.

Harry exhales sharply, nodding. “Please.” He says, eyes wide and pupils dark. Harry flips them over then, trapping Louis’ body beneath him and trailing kisses down Louis’ chest and abs as he nudges his legs apart.

“God, look at you.” Harry groans, teasing Louis’ hardening cock as he brushes a finger at Louis’ hole. “I want so much.”

Louis whimpers, bucking his hips at Harry’s light touch. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He grits out, rocking his hips with need at the memory of how torturously Harry had kept him on edge the last time.

“Am I?” Harry asks, and Louis doesn’t need to be able to see him in the dark to know that he’s smirking.

He opens his mouth to mock Harry, a lethal comeback on his tongue when suddenly there’s something warm and wet probing at his hole, and his words fall flat. Louis squeaks in surprise, groaning at how good it feels as Harry’s tongue licks into him.

“Not such a tease now, am I?” Harry asks, lips still pressed at his arse. “You said you were into rimming, right?”

“Jesus, fuck.” Louis chokes out as Harry delves in again, thighs trembling already.

Harry’s tongue expertly circles his hole, and Louis lets out a quiet moan.

“Aw, c’mon.” Harry says encouragingly. “Let me hear you be loud.”

 Louis snorts, biting down on his lip to muffle a groan as Harry continues his ministrations. “Make me.” He snaps.

Harry doesn’t reply, but he does nudge a spit-slick finger at Louis’ hole, pushing in easily as he twists his other hand at the base of Louis’ cock.

“So hard for me, aren’t you?” He croons, moving his finger in and out of Louis with his words.

“Your dirty talk,” Louis grumbles. “Sucks.”

“If you want me to _suck_ , just say so.” Harry replies with an innocent grin, slipping in a second finger and beginning to scissor them.

“Don’t make puns while you’re about to fuck me, Harry.” Louis mutters, struggling to maintain his composure when Harry is twisting his fingers inside him just so.

“Don’t order me around,” Harry replies calmly, a mirthful grin on his face. He adds a third finger, whispering smugly. “You aren’t the one with the upper _hand_ right now.”

Louis groans, partly from the feeling of Harry’s fingers and partly at what a terrible line that was. “That doesn’t even make sense. You aren’t using your whole hand to-”

“Would you like me to?” Harry asks, interrupting him.

Louis rolls his eyes, half in pleasure and half in annoyance as he gasps out “Shut up, that’s not what I meant.”

“Aw c’mon, I’m funny.” Harry argues halfheartedly, brushing his fingers deliberately at Louis’ prostate.

Louis doesn’t respond, moaning out Harry’s name instead.

“There we go,” Harry says with a smirk, but Louis can’t be bothered to mind his smugness when his fingers are hitting him right where he needs it most.

“Fuck, fuck this.” Louis says breathlessly after a bit, shifting his hips away from Harry’s hand. “Gonna come if you keep it up, don’t want to like this.”

Louis flips them back over, straddling Harry and grinding down against his cock.

“Condom?” Louis asks, rolling his hips down against Harry’s deliciously.

It takes Harry a moment to process what he’s said, but when he does his face falls. “Shit.” He says, brows furrowing together. “I don’t have one.”

“Check the nightstand.” Louis urges, unbothered.

“Why would Niall’s guest room have condoms?” Harry asks, but extends an arm to pull open the nightstand drawer anyways. Sure enough, inside is a stash of lube, condoms, and tissues. “What the fuck.” Harry says, grabbing for the lube and a condom.

“What did you think this room got used for?” Louis asks, laughing lightly and taking the condom from Harry to put it on him.

Harry gives him an incredulous look, shaking his head. “Not that.” He says with a shrug.

Louis shakes his head, shrugging as he lubes up Harry’s cock and lines himself up. “Niall is prepared, I guess.”

“Shh.” Harry shushes him, gripping at his hips. “This is really not the time for this conversation.”

Louis laughs, willingly shutting up about Niall and sinking down on Harry’s cock with a long moan. “Fuck,” He breathes, head tilted back in pleasure as Harry’s length fills him up.

Harry is big, which he already knew, but it’s different feeling it inside of him rather than just seeing Harry’s length. Even their last meetup hadn’t prepared him for this.

“Fucking hell,” Louis curses as his body adjusts, slowly lifting himself up and then sinking back down.

Harry groans out something incoherent, but Louis doesn’t particularly care to make out the words, focusing on building up a rhythm as he rides Harry’s cock. He’s good at this, is the thing, knows how to roll his hips just right to make it the most pleasurable for both of them. It has been a while since he’s done it though, and Harry is bigger than he usually is used to. So it takes a bit of warming up for Louis to fall back into the feel of things, but once he does, he _does_.

“Louis,” Harry chokes out all too soon. “Lou, fuck. I’m gonna.”

His hands have been clutching Louis’ hips, groping his ass, and trailing along his thighs. The touch spurred Louis on, but nowhere near as much as it does now, as Harry finally wraps a hand around Louis’ cock, dragging his fist up his shaft.

Louis lets out a moan, his movements growing sloppier as he approaches his climax.

“C’mon,” Harry gasps out. “Come with me.”

Harry ends up coming first, his mouth parting in pleasure as Louis rides him through it. Blissed out, Harry urgently tugs at Louis’ cock, eyes glued to the sight of Louis riding him desperately. It isn’t long before Louis is coming as well, his vision whiting out with ecstasy.

“We’ll get it.” Harry says consolingly, and Louis blinks in confusion at him as he pulls away, flopping down on the bed next to him breathlessly.

“What?”

“Coming together.” Harry answers, tying off the condom and tossing it aside in favor of wrapping an arm around Louis and pulling him close. “Next time.”

“Next time.” Louis echoes, frowning even as he cuddles close. “That’s what you said last time.”

“And here we are.” Harry agrees.

 

-

 

When Louis wakes up, there’s a pillow in his arms and a sticky note on the sheet next to him.

Had to leave for work, couldn’t bear to wake you. Thanks for last night and happy St. Pattys! xx H

Louis sighs, burying his face in the pillow for a bit longer before finally rolling out of bed. His ass is sore, but it really has been a long time since he’s gotten laid so that’s to be expected. The room is mostly clean, the discarded condom and tissues they’d used last night having made their way from the floor to the bin, and Louis thinks vaguely that Harry is at least a considerate guy.

There are unread texts from Zayn when he checks his phone.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 1:14 AM]  
im bringing liam home dont freak out

r u dead or r u getting laid idk

if ur dead im going to feel bad about this in the morning

i made pancakes, feel free to eat them

 

There’s also a text from Niall.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 2:39 AM]  
i need ear bleach

 

Louis texts them back quickly ( _i was with harry, thx for the pancakes_ and _now we’re even_ respectively) before stripping the sheets off of Niall’s guest bed and popping them in the washer.

Niall is passed out on the couch, not having made it back to his own room last night apparently, so Louis leaves a similar sticky note on his forehead and heads home to eat pancakes provided by Zayn and actively not wait for Harry to text him.

 

 

_April_

 

“Do you know how to file taxes?” Zayn asks Louis, looking up at him from the kitchen table and rubbing his temples. He’s wearing a formal suit, the same one he wore to their wedding, and his hair is styled up in a quiff.

“Not really.” Louis answers with a shrug, buttoning up his shirt and fumbling with his tie. “You can use a service or something, can’t you?”

“I guess.” Zayn frowns at the paperwork in front of him, taking Louis’ glasses off of his face. He wears them sometimes when he’s stressed.

“Relax, honeybunch.” Louis says teasingly. “I’m sure marriage doesn’t make the process _that_ different.”

“It does, though.” Zayn sighs. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“Liam is an accountant or something, right?” Louis asks. “Ask him to help.”

Zayn stares blankly at him. “You want me to ask my hookup for advice with filing for taxes  as a married couple for the first time.”

Louis winces. “That’s fair.”

“I’ll deal with it later.” Zayn tells him, eyeing his outfit before nodding in approval. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, husband.” Louis replies, slipping on his suit jacket and adjusting the silver ring on his fourth finger. “Let’s do this.”

The cab ride to the museum is a short one, filled with them singing along obnoxiously to the pop songs on the radio, much to their driver’s dismay.

“Here we are.” The cabbie says loudly, as Zayn launches into the next chorus.

Louis hands him the appropriate amount of bills, plus a generous tip, and all but shoves Zayn out to door.

“That was Rihanna,” Zayn complains. “I love her.”

“I know.” Louis rolls his eyes, reaching up to adjust Zayn’s tie. The knot had fallen during his latest rendition, as he attempted to use the bottom of the tie as a microphone.

“Why hello there,” An elderly woman calls out, approaching them with a tentative clicking of her heels. “Zayn dear, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. You?” Zayn asks, a polite smile on his face.

“Same for me, same for me.” She chortles happily, eyeing Louis. “And who might this be?”

“Ah.” Zayn clears his throat, cheeks tinting red in the moonlight. He rests his hand at the small of Louis’ back, guiding him to his side. “Louis this is Mrs. Atkins, the curator. Mrs. Atkins, this is Louis. My husband.”

“Your _husband_?” She whispers conspiratorially, as if Louis isn’t also two feet away. “I didn’t know you were married. I didn’t even know you were in a relationship! You’ve never brought anyone to work parties before.”

“We kept it private.” Louis answers for Zayn, his best charming smile on his lips. “But it is quite a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well! Oh, you have to tell me everything.” She gushes, taking Louis by the arm.

Louis flashes a wink at Zayn, grinning. “I’ll catch up with you later okay, babe?”

“Sure,” Zayn says, squeezing his hand warningly. “Try not to embarrass me too much, will you?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, darling. I plan on embarrassing you as much as possible.” Louis replies.

He’s only half joking. He’ll embarrass Zayn probably, but all in the name of talking him up. That is his mission here tonight after all, to make Zayn seem as good as possible. Zayn has had a sneaking suspicion that the reason he hasn’t been promoted recently is because he seems too young and more likely to leave the job as soon as he finds an opportunity to. He had given him very explicit instructions the night before about making him seem stable and reliable.

“I’ll make us seem like the cutest most dependable couple in all of England,” Louis had promised Zayn.

So as Mrs. Atkins begins firing off questions at him (How did they meet? When did they get married? What are their future plans?), Louis is more than prepared with his answers.

 

-

 

“Have I mentioned lately that I love you?” Zayn asks Louis as they crawl into a cab to go home later that night.

“No,” Louis tells him, pinching his cheek. “But that’s alright, I know you do.”

Zayn waits until the cab has pulled away from the museum before turning to Louis with wide eyes. “You are brilliant.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief. “My best friend is brilliant.”

“I know.” Louis agrees with an innocent smile. “What would you do without me?”

“I have no idea.” Zayn says genuinely, not picking up on Louis’ teasing tone. “People I don’t even _know_ were coming up to me and congratulating me. And not even about our wedding, just about you in general.”

“I’m a natural, A+ husband.” Louis replies, shrugging easily.

“And that story you told Mrs. Atkins? About us falling in love but not being able to marry until recently because of having to keep our relationship a secret? That was golden. She ate it up. And it explains perfectly why none of them would have met you before. Genius.” Zayn says, leaning back against the car seat with a giddy smile.

Louis allows himself to preen a little at that. He was particularly proud of the heartfelt performance he had given, tearing up and everything as he told his tale.

“Everyone loved you.” Zayn tells Louis in relief. “And so now they all love me.”

“Kind of reminds me of why we did this in the first place, you know?” Louis asks, twisting the ring around his finger idly.

“Yeah.” Zayn agrees softly. “Kind of sucks that society forces marriage so much on us, but it’s pretty nice to have outsmarted the system.”

“Dream team, you and I.” Louis agrees.

They fist bump triumphantly and their rings knock together with a quiet clink.

 

-

 

A few weeks later, Zayn comes rushing into their flat in a panic, slamming the door behind him. “Louis!” He hisses urgently, back pressed against the door.

“What?” Louis asks from the couch, where he’s looking over the song list to be played on tomorrow morning’s radio sequence.

“It’s Liam.” Zayn says, gulping.

He’s dressed in a loose tank top and sweatpants, his hair sticking up as if someone has been running their fingers through it.

“What about Liam? Weren’t you just with him?” Louis asks, setting down his pen.

“No.” Zayn blurts, before frowning and amending “I mean, yes. Yes, but that’s not the point.” His eyes are wide, and Louis sets aside his work slowly to give Zayn his full attention.

“What’s the point then?” He asks.

“Liam asked me on a date.” Zayn says, hands tugging his hair into more of a disarray.

Louis waits for a beat. Then another.

“Zayn,” He says, frowning thoughtfully. “You know April Fool’s is on the first day of April, not the last, right?”

“What?” Zayn demands, looking at Louis in confusion. “I’m serious!”

Louis laughs, tossing an unopened can of beer at his husband. “Alright, I’ll bite.” He says, shaking his head. “Why are you freaking out? This is a _good_ thing. And a thing, if I can remind you, that I totally called from day one.”

“You did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too! I called it.”

Zayn groans in frustration. “Fine, whatever. That doesn’t matter.”

“So we agree that I can say ‘I told you so’?” Louis asks, and Zayn flops down on the couch next to him, punching him in the arm.

“That’s not important!” Zayn whispers. “He asked me out. Why are you so calm?”

“Maybe because I saw this coming?” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been staying the night, spending time together outside of just shagging, texting constantly…” Louis ticks off the reasons on his fingers as he talks.

“We do _not-_ ” Zayn’s argument is interrupted by the chime of a text on his phone.

Louis raises his eyebrows knowingly, relishing being right as he grabs for Zayn’s phone.

[From: Liam Payne 3:25 PM]  
I can’t wait for Friday. Is it okay if I pick you up at 7?

“Jesus, proper punctuation and everything.” Louis comments, but he’s smiling at the screen.

“Give me that,” Zayn snaps, grabbing for his phone.

Louis shakes his head, twisting to hold the phone out of Zayn’s reach as he types out a reply.

 

[From: Zayn Malik 3:26 PM]  
i cnt wait either!!!!! ps. wht r ur fav type of flowers? xx 

“That’s too many exclamations!” Zayn shouts, tackling Louis down on the couch to try to get his phone. “And x’s? You fucker, we aren’t at that level yet!”

Louis laughs mischievously, pressing send before tossing the phone back to Zayn who snatches it immediately.

“Fuck you.” Zayn mutters, frowning at the screen. “Now he’s going to think I’m in love with him already. And now I have to buy flowers.”

 “Flowers are expensive,” Louis agrees in mock sympathy, and Zayn shoves at him halfheartedly. Laughing, Louis sits back up and nudges Zayn’s shoulder with his own. “C’mon, this is exciting. You know you’re into him, too.”

“Yeah.” Zayn admits. “But I never let myself think about it going this far. It’s not supposed to be anything serious.”

“And it doesn’t have to be.” Louis shrugs. “Just go for it. If it doesn’t work out, you’ve always got me, your loyal husband.”

Zayn snorts at Louis’ phrasing, shaking his head. “I guess.”

“Good.” Louis says, curling up on the couch again with his work, cuddling up against Zayn’s side.

A text comes in a few minutes later, reading:

[From: Liam Payne 3:31 PM]  
Tulips! xx

 

 

_May_

 

“Hey, Lou?” Niall asks through a mouthful of sandwich, eyebrows knit together thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” Louis hums in acknowledgement, briefly averting his attention from the magazine he is reading. They’re sitting in his and Zayn’s kitchen, and Louis isn’t sure how Niall managed to scrounge together the ingredients from their dilapidated cupboards, but the sandwich he is holding looks delicious.

“Where’s Harry?” Niall asks.

“What?” Louis asks instead of answering, turning fully to give Niall a look of confusion.

“I said, where’s Harry?” Niall repeats.

“No, I heard you.” Louis says slowly. “But why would you ask me that? How should I know?”

Niall blinks at him in surprise. “Why wouldn’t you know?”

“What?” Louis shakes his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s Saturday.” Niall says, and Louis raises an eyebrow to urge him to continue. “Harry and I usually hang out on Saturdays, but he hasn’t texted me back. I figured you’d know why.”

“Why me?” Louis asks, frowning. “I’m clearly here with you, not off wherever he is.”

“Oh.” Niall frowns. “Well I mean, you see each other almost every day. You’re always texting. I just figured you’d know.”

Louis opens his mouth to argue against Niall, but he can’t come up with anything. “I don’t see him _every_ day.” He says after a moment, but it’s a weak argument and he knows it.

“What, did you skip Thursday then or summat?” Niall jokes. “Lately you see him more in a week than I have the whole time I’ve known him, that’s all I’m saying.”

 “He’s right.” Zayn calls out from where he is laying on the couch, raising his arm so that his hand is visible as he counts on his fingers. “Monday you met back at the warehouse, Tuesday you were here, Wednesday was-”

“Shut up,” Louis interrupts with a huff. “I’ll divorce you.”

Zayn chuckles. “I’m just saying. You’ve been spending an awful lot of time together.”

“Just because you’ve started a successful relationship with Liam from 3H doesn’t mean everyone else is trying to as well.” Louis snaps. “It’s casual. We’re friends. Who have sex frequently. It’s fine.”

“What was that bit of advice you gave me?” Zayn asks, pretending to not remember. “Mutual friends who find each other attractive, and all that?”

“It’s not like that, Z.” Louis assures him. “It’s nothing serious.”

“Does he know that?” Niall asks, and Louis shrugs sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, Lou. We’ll be here to say we told you so once you’ve figured it out.” Zayn says.

Louis hates them both.

“The tomatoes in your sandwich are a week old.” He informs Niall, setting down his magazine primly and exiting to his room.

 

-

 

A week later is the first time Louis sees Harry’s flat.

Louis doesn’t know what he expected Harry’s flat to be like, but as he lays on the couch in post-coital bliss, he realises that it’s nothing like he anticipated.

They hadn’t planned for it to happen, it was just a convenient place for them to go after their brunch at a local café.

(“You know,” Harry had said conversationally as he pocketed his credit card. “Some people might call this a date.”

Louis had raised an eyebrow, doing his best to seem unaffected. “Would you?”

“I don’t think so.” Harry had replied after a moment, setting down some bills as a tip. “You’re venmo-ing me for your half of it, anyways. Wouldn’t let you do that if it was a date.”

“What a gentleman.” Louis had teased, pleased by the way Harry blushed in response.

“Of course.” Harry had mumbled, standing quickly. “Anyways. Do you want to come back to mine? You did say something about needing to burn calories after all those pancakes…”

“We’ve _really_ got to work on your dirty talk, H.” Louis had said with a laugh, standing as well and hip checking Harry. “But sure, I’d love to.”)

Harry might be lacking in his seductive words, but Louis found him to be more than capable with his teasing touches in the cab ride to his place. Understandably, first stumbling into Harry’s place had been a blur of kisses and touches, Louis having far more pressing matters to focus on rather than the layout of his flat.

Now, cuddled up with Harry on his couch, Louis finally has a chance to look around.

“How long have you lived here?” Louis asks, gently running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Moved in around mid-October.” Harry answers, voice low and tired. “So… a little over half a year.”

“That’s more than six months.” Louis says, mildly amazed.

“That’s what over half a year means, yes.” Harry grumbles, irritated. Louis laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“I know. Sorry, I just mean… how has it been this long and you _still_ haven’t unpacked?” Louis asks, surveying the room.

He thinks he expected Harry’s place to be artsy, walls decorated with records and paintings that Louis has never heard of and a color scheme present in every room. Or maybe cluttered, walls covered in various photographs Harry has taken and shelves piled high with books and papers.

But no, Harry’s flat is barren.

The few pieces of furniture that Harry has seem standard and impersonal, and Louis largely suspects that the flat came furnished with them. Apart from those major items – a table, a couch, a bed, etc. – the only other objects worth noting are the various piles of boxes stacked throughout. There is a TV as well, balanced on two sturdy looking boxes, but that’s all there is to what is supposed to be Harry’s living room.

“I wasn’t really planning on staying in London long.” Harry explains with a shrug.

Louis narrows his eyes. “That was past tense.” He calls Harry out, eyebrows raised in silent question. “What changed?”

Harry shrugs, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Well. I fell in love.”

Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise, and he’s sure Harry feels the way his body goes rigid in his arms.

“With the city.” Harry adds hastily. “Fell in love with London, I meant.”

“Oh.” It takes Louis a moment to get control over himself again. He blames Zayn for planting thoughts in his head that Harry might not see their arrangement quite as casually as he does. Of course Harry meant he loved London. It’s been somewhat too long of a pause, but Louis chuckles and says “Yeah, of course. It’s easy to do, ‘m guilty of loving London myself.”

“I’m sure plenty of people are.” Harry says agreeably.

“How long do you think you’ll be staying in London now?” Louis asks, settling his chin at the crook of Harry’s neck.

Harry hums thoughtfully, leaning into him. “The rest of the year, at least. Maybe longer. I’m not sure. Depends on how well photographing London goes.”

“That’s a decent amount of time.” Louis comments, frowning at Harry’s boxes. “Jesus, is that one really labeled plates? Have you been living for six months without plates?”

Harry makes a face. “I’m not a barbarian. I love to cook, of course I have plates.”

Louis gives him an unimpressed look. “You’ve unpacked like three plates, haven’t you.”

“Four!” Harry defends himself, and Louis bursts out laughing.

“C’mon.” He says. “Blast some music you like that’s too cool for me, and let’s get you moved in.”

 

 

_June_

 

It has definitely, officially become a thing.

Well, not officially. Because Louis hasn’t actually talked to Harry about it. But he’s pretty sure that they are mutually exclusive friends with benefits.

“That’s called a relationship, Louis.” Zayn says sounding bored, when he explains the situation to him.

“But we aren’t _dating_.” Louis emphasizes.

“Okay.” Zayn says, licking his mint chip ice cream. “Why not?”

Louis stares at him for a moment, taking a bite of his own caramel swirl ice cream before asking “What do you mean?”

“You’re basically in a relationship.” Zayn explains, waving his ice cream around dangerously in hand motions as he speaks. “The only thing keeping you from being in one is the official label, as I see it. You like him, you’re attracted to him, your sex life is great, you’re both only seeing each other… am I missing something here?”

“Oh gee,” Louis starts sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that I have a _husband_ I haven’t told him about.”

Zayn shrugs. “Same with me and Liam, and we’re doing alright so far.”

Louis sighs. “It’s different.”

“How?” Zayn counters, crunching on his cone.

“You have chocolate in your teeth.” Louis says instead of answering.

Zayn smiles widely, showing it off before using his tongue to effectively remove it. “It’s not different,” He tells Louis then, giving him a look. “You can’t change the topic every time I’m right, just so you know.”

“Watch me.” Louis grumbles, sighing. “Liam wants a relationship. I don’t think Harry does.”

“You don’t know that.” Zayn says, shaking his head. “And does it matter either way? If he doesn’t, then you can continue as you are now. If he does, then ask the man out for fuck’s sake. It’s a win-win.”

“No,” Louis huffs. “What if I ask him and it gets weird and then we aren’t the same anymore? Conversations like this ruin friends with benefit situations more often than not.”

Zayn is quiet for a moment, which is surprising. Louis had expected him to come back with accusations about Louis’ lack of communication.

“I see.” Zayn says finally, lips quirking upwards fondly.

Louis shakes his head, confused. “What?”

“You’re worried.” Zayn coos, grinning. “You caught feelings.”

“Did not.” Louis denies immediately.

Zayn doesn’t look like he believes him at all. “Did too.” He says. “And anyways, this is good. You haven’t had feelings for someone in over four years I’d reckon.”

Louis groans, dropping his head down onto the table. “Fine. Yeah, I might’ve.”

He’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere between meeting up for meals, playing video games together, and watching bad tv shows, he’s found himself looking forward more to the person he’s seeing than to whatever activity they’re doing. Sometimes they aren’t doing anything, just laying together and talking or chilling on the couch, and still it’s beyond nice just because it’s him.

It’s weird. Louis barely remembers what it feels like to fancy someone this way.

“You should tell him.” Zayn says.

“What, that I like him? Or that I have a husband?” Louis says dejectedly.

“Both. I want you to meet Liam, by the way.” Zayn says.

“Sure.” Louis says, finishing off his ice cream. “I’ll take the threatening best friend speech to a new level. A threatening husband speech.”

“Terrifying.” Zayn agrees, smiling.

 

-

 

Zayn brings Liam home for dinner that Friday.

“How are you?” Liam says politely, stepping through the door. More than anything, he looks nervous.

Louis studies him for a moment before responding. He’s dressed nicely, clearly having put effort into his appearance for the occasion. Louis feels like this is akin to a ‘meet-the-parents’ situation for him, because Liam seems to be taking it very seriously. He’s wearing straight-legged pants, a slim button down, and his hair is styled in a messy way that Louis knows from experience takes a lot longer than it seems like it would.

He has kind, brown eyes, and he seems like the type of guy that Louis could count on to both offer a shoulder to cry on and beat the shit out of whoever had hurt him. He seems like he would be good for Zayn.

 “Better now that I’ve met you,” Louis teases, deciding that he likes Liam. “I’m Louis.”

“Liam.” Liam introduces himself, relaxing a little. He has an endearing personality, Louis thinks. It makes him want to mess with Liam but also protect him.

“I know.” Louis says, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially. “I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Likewise.” Liam says with a grin, and Louis gives a mock gasp to Zayn.

Zayn rolls his eyes but he looks pleased, having likely picked up on Louis’ approval. He guides Liam down the hall towards the kitchen, as if Liam has never been in their flat before and doesn’t live in the exact same layout one floor below them, before turning to Louis. “Thanks.” He says.

Louis nods, nudging his shoulder against Zayn’s and whispering “Are you going to tell him?”

“Not tonight.” Zayn replies quietly. “But soon, I think. If it gets serious.”

Louis hums in understanding, following Zayn to the couch where Liam is sitting.

“Fifa?” Zayn asks, and Louis grins wickedly.

“Better watch out, Liam.” He says, mildly threatening. “I’ll only support you and Zayn if you can beat me.”

Liam wins the match, and he looks so pleased with himself that Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he was only joking and would have approved of their relationship no matter what.

 

-

 

On the last day of June, their air conditioning breaks down.

“It’s so hot.” Louis whines from the floor where he is laying on the kitchen tile.

Zayn nods from where he is standing by the fridge, chugging a cold bottle of water. He’s wearing only his boxers and a tank top, and a few minutes later, only his boxers.

“We should go somewhere.” Louis says. “Get out of this place. Maybe ice skating. A walk-in freezer. An igloo. I’m flexible.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “Well, one of us has to be here at all times. The landlord said someone would be over to fix it for us sometime today, and you know if we aren’t here to let him in he won’t come back for at least a week.”

Louis frowns. Zayn is right, he knows. Once, when their water had stopped working, they had gone to Niall’s place to use his shower. When they came back, there was a note on the door from the landlord saying the plumber had come and left and that the next available time for him would be in two weeks.

It had been a long two weeks.

“Fine.” Louis grumbles, lifting up his phone.

There’s a text from Harry, something about how ‘June gloom’ isn’t real.

[To: Harry Styles 2:54 PM]  
im hot

 

“I have to go to work.” Zayn says, trailing off with a groan. “I don’t want to put on pants.”

“At least you get to leave.” Louis complains, shifting on the tile so he is laying in a new area, where the floor hasn’t been warmed by his body heat. “Go enjoy the sweet air conditioning of the museum.”

Zayn tosses Louis a frozen water bottle. “Good luck, man.”

[To: Louis Tomlinson 2:56 PM]  
yeah, that’s what im saying! its so sunny for june

 

Louis sighs, and presses the call button.

Harry answers on the first ring.

“There were so many innuendos you could have gone with there,” Louis informs him, not bothering with a greeting. “But you chose to continue with the June gloom thing.”

“It’s weird,” Harry defends himself. “It wasn’t nearly this warm last week.”

Louis hums in agreement, sighing fondly. He holds the cold water bottle Zayn gave him close, announcing “Our air conditioning is broken.”

“This is the worst time for that to happen.” Harry tells him, sounding worried. “Come over, I’ve got ice cream and cold air. Or, we could go to the beach or something.”

“Can’t.” Louis groans, because both options sound like heaven. “I’ve got to wait here for the person who’s going to fix it.”

“Oh.” Harry says. “Okay. I’ll see you in five.”

Louis tries not to look forward to Harry coming over too much.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then twenty.

[To: Harry Styles 3:20 PM]  
where r u

 

Harry doesn’t text back.

Thirty minutes later, there’s a banging sound on the door.

Louis flings it open eagerly. It’s either Harry or the fixer, and either will be a welcome sight.

Harry is standing by the door, curls damp with sweat and dimples showing as he grins proudly. “Did you know,” Harry says, smile widening. “That I’m your biggest fan?”

There’s a large fan behind him that he must have carried himself up the stairs – the elevator is broken as well, probably why their rent is so cheap - and Louis is so grateful he can’t even find it in him to make fun of Harry for his awful joke.

He thinks he might just be in love, but he passes it off as relief that he will soon be out of his heat driven misery.

 

 

_July_

 

The summer passes quickly, and Louis’ life falls into routine.

He meets Harry for coffee in the mornings, goes to work, sees Zayn around dinner, and hangs out with Harry or Niall or both afterwards.

Niall had pointed it out long before, but only now does Louis notice it himself. He’s been spending a lot of time with Harry. Nearly all of his spare time, actually.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s definitely different. Their relationship isn’t nearly as sexually charged, or rather, it is but they spend a lot of time with each other outside of just having sex.

“Sometimes you have sex, sometimes you just enjoy each other’s company. Ask him out already, will you?” Zayn says.

Louis doesn’t, though.

Niall hosts a party during the middle of the month, with good food and good alcohol, and Louis and Harry make excellent use of Niall’s guest room once more. This time, they stay the morning after, and Harry cooks an incredible amount of breakfast foods to share with Niall.

 

 

_August_

 

It doesn’t start to feel like a relationship, though, until August.

“Will you ever buy eggs? These are nearly a week old.” Harry calls from the kitchen, sounding exasperated.

Louis makes a mental note of it, as he has for the past three times that Harry has told him that their eggs are nearly bad. “I will, sorry! Keep forgetting.”

Its domestic, he thinks, which should be odd. The way Harry works his way around his and Zayn’s kitchen expertly would be setting off alarm bells in his head if Niall didn’t do the same thing. Louis is pretty sure that the two of them know the kitchen’s contents better than he and Zayn do himself.

“You’re done with work for the day already, yeah?” Harry calls out, starting to scramble the eggs anyways.

“Yeah.” Louis confirms, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Want to come to work with me?” Harry offers, flashing him a wink.

“Sure.” Louis agrees.

Harry wraps up two breakfast burritos, packing them in a bag and nudging Louis forward with his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They take a cab, Harry rattling off an address to the driver that Louis doesn’t recognize.

“Today.” Harry explains to Louis. “I’m photographing nature. And you. Hope you’re up for it.”

Louis shrugs willingly. He has accompanied Harry on quite a few more photo shoots since the first one, usually ending up posing for him at the end. He had expected this, actually.

“Nature.” He echoes, focusing on the interesting part of what Harry has said. “What kind of nature?”

“I know a pretty good hike, if that’s alright. Views at the top will blow your mind.” Harry tells him.

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “And what would you do if I said it wasn’t alright? We’re already bloody on the way there.”

“I’d carry you up, of course.” Harry shrugs a shoulder, leaning his side into Louis teasingly.

Louis laughs again, trying not to look too fondly at the way Harry is beaming at him, dimple on display.

The cab drops them off a ways out from the city, at no place in particular as far as Louis is concerned.

“Where are we?” He asks.

“C’mon!” Harry whoops, camera out already as he takes off at a jog towards a trailhead.

Louis shakes his head, smiling to himself, and follows.

He thinks he might follow Harry anywhere.

They hike up together, following each other. Harry starts off leading the way until he a photo opportunity catches his eye, at which point Louis passes him. He catches up, though, and takes the lead again until another photo beckons him.

They reach the top after about an hour, and the view really does blow Louis’ mind. The sun is about to sink below the horizon, the sky fading into orange hues. The buildings of the city are silhouetted against the sky, growing darker as the light fades. They’re higher up than he had realised, having a bird’s eye view over the hills stretched out in front of them that gradually blend into the bustling of small towns and then the city.

“Wow.” Louis exhales, catching his breath as he takes in the view.

There’s a click of a shutter but when he turns to Harry, his camera is focused on him rather than on the scene laid out in front of them.

“Harry.” Louis says, a smile spreading on his face. “How do you even know this place?”

Harry doesn’t answer, focusing his camera on the skyline and snapping away. He lowers his camera from his face after a moment, and his own silhouette looks so picturesque that Louis almost wishes he was a photographer himself.

Harry turns towards him then, smiling easily. “Breakfast for dinner?”

He pulls out the burritos he made earlier, and they sit in the cool grass.

“What would you do if I said no?” Louis asks, teasing.

“You would go hungry then, I think.” Harry says thoughtfully, his face serious.

Louis laughs, taking a burrito from Harry. “Thanks.”

It feels like a date, hiking to see the sunset and eating dinner together. Louis’ filter is weak as ever, and he says as much. “Is this a date?”

Harry raises his eyebrows, motioning towards the burritos and shaking his head. “I wouldn’t raid my date’s kitchen for food to bring on a date.”

 Louis hums, shrugging at Harry’s curious gaze on him. “It’s nice is all. Maybe a good place to take future dates, I’d say. Keep it in mind.”

“Yeah.” Harry says, giving Louis a funny look. “Thanks, I will.”

They eat in comfortable quiet, Harry pausing every now and then to take more pictures as the sun continues to sink. Even after they’ve finished eating, they continue to sit together enjoying the view.

“What do you feel right now?” Harry asks.

 _Love_ , Louis thinks. “Happy,” He says.

Harry hums thoughtfully, frowning in concentration at his camera as he previews the pictures he has taken. “Alright. I’ll try to see what I can do about getting some of that emotion in these pictures.”

Louis nods, laying on his back and just staring at the darkening sky.

“Hey,” Harry whispers a few minutes later, stretching out next to him and nudging at his cheek with his nose.

“Hey.” Louis says.

“Have you ever had sex outdoors?” He asks.

Louis laughs, and they proceed to check off a box on his bucketlist.

 

 

_September_

 

“Louis!” Nick Grimshaw, his co-worker at the radio station calls out as he is leaving work one day.

“What’s up?” Louis asks, turning to smile at him and giving the man a one armed hug.

“Are you coming to the work party tonight?” Nick asks, looking like he is trying too hard to act casual.

“Oh!” Louis frowns. “Shit. I’d forgotten about it, actually.”

“Do you have plans?” Nick asks, and Louis narrows his eyes at the question.

“No,” He says slowly. “I’ll be there. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sure.” Nick says, but he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Cool.” Louis says, lifting a hand to wave goodbye. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah.” Nick says. “And hey, Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you want to get drinks with me afterwards, maybe?” Nick asks, a vaguely leering smile on his face.

Louis’ first thought is of Harry, his green eyes, bright smiles, and awful jokes. His second thought is of Zayn.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Louis says, with a mock apologetic shrug. “I’ll be going out with my husband afterwards, I think.”

 Nick’s eyes bulge out in surprise, and Louis struggles to bite back a laugh. “Your what?”

“My husband.” Louis repeats innocently, giving him a sunny smile. “See you tonight!”

 

-

 

“You what?” Zayn asks when Louis tells him about the sudden change of plans for their night.

“I need you to come to a work party tonight and be my husband.” Louis repeats. “Preferably rub it in Nick Grimshaw’s face that I’m very much taken, if you can. Flash your ring a lot and look like you don’t hate me. You know, the usual.”

Zayn sighs, and Louis shoves a nice shirt into his hands.

“Did you have plans with Liam tonight or something?” He asks, concerned.

“No,” Zayn says. “But why didn’t you ask Harry to come pretend to be your boyfriend? That probably would’ve gotten you together for sure.”

Louis looks at him blankly. “I’m not trying to get together with Harry. And I already have a semi-pretend husband, I don’t need a pretend boyfriend on top of it.”

Zayn shrugs, a smile slowly spreading on his face. “Alright. I guess this is why we did this in the first place. Besides, Mrs. Atkins still won’t shut up about how much she adores you.”

“Really?” Louis asks, a wicked grin taking over his face.

“Yeah.” Zayn says, adopting a falsely high voice to mimic Mrs. Atkins. “You’re _so_ lucky, Zayn, your husband seems soo lovely. If he wasn’t so clearly enamored with you, I might just steal him myself!”

Louis bursts out laughing at the impression, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“So,” Zayn continues in his normal voice. “If it doesn’t work out between you and I with our marriage, she can be your fallback.”

“Oh god, please no.” Louis makes a face, grimacing at Zayn.

Zayn bursts out laughing, full of mirth. “All I’m saying, is I’m going to return the favor. Expect a hell of a husband tonight.”

 

-

 

Zayn is true to his word, sticking possessively close to Louis’ side all night.

“Louis,” Nick calls, and Louis is pretty sure Zayn feels him stiffen because when they turn as a unit to face him, Zayn’s grin looks predatorial.

“Nick,” Louis greets, unable to hold back a smug smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Nick replies, eyes raking up Louis’ body before turning innocently to Zayn. “And I don’t believe we’ve met, gorgeous. I’m Nick. Nick Grimshaw.”

“Ah, pleasure.” Zayn says sweetly. “I’m Zayn.” He waits a beat, feigning a yawn as an excuse to lift his left hand, the silver band on his forth finger glistening in the dim lighting, before adding casually, “Louis’ husband.”

If nothing else has, the shock on Nick’s face at Zayn’s words makes the whole marriage worth it.

 

 

_October_

 

“Guess what.” Harry says to Louis as he rushes into the coffee shop they meet at, hair askew and bags under his eyes. Then, after taking in his appearance, “Whoa. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Louis apologizes, catching sight of his reflection in the window and attempting to fix his hair. “Liam and Zayn were going at it last night.” He explains, shuddering for effect. “Didn’t get much sleep, barely heard my third alarm.”

“Jesus.” Harry chuckles, holding out a cup. “Well, I got your usual for you.”

“Cheers, mate.” Louis thanks him, taking the tea gratefully. “I’ll get you next time so we’re even.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry says, shrugging.

Louis goes still, studying Harry carefully. Harry isn’t a stingy person at all, but he is very careful about always paying people back, or at least repaying them in some other way to make it even. Louis tries to reciprocate this for him, always paying him back too so that it’s fair.

“Alright.” Louis says carefully. “Well, I’ll wake you up with a blowjob sometime soon then.” He says with a wink, only half joking.

“We can get revenge on Zayn and Liam if you’d like.” Harry agrees, laughing.

Louis shakes his head, taking a much needed sip of his tea. “Can I have some of your coffee?”

Harry is holding out the cup to him before he has even finished his question.

“Thanks.” Louis says, taking a blessedly sweet, caffeinated sip of Harry’s drink.

Harry chuckles. “Well, if you aren’t too tired later I was going to invite you back for dinner at my place tonight.”

“Sure.” Louis says. “I’ll try to catch a nap sometime this afternoon. What’s the occasion?”

It’s not the first time Harry has asked Louis over to dinner, usually because he wants to test out a new recipe, or because his favourite show is on, or sometimes just to have sex.

“Well,” Harry says, his green eyes flicking away from Louis’. He rubs a hand at the stubble that is struggling to grow at his chin, looking somewhat nervous. “It’s actually somewhat of a special day for me. And I wanted to celebrate it with you.”

“Oh my god.” Louis says, and Harry’s gaze snaps up to meet his again. “Is it your birthday? It’s your birthday. Fuck, and I didn’t even know. How did I not know? Are we not friends on Facebook?”

Harry bursts out laughing, bright and loud. The sight of it warms Louis’ heart, and he feels significantly more awake if only because all of his senses are at their most alert trying to take in everything about the man in front of him.

“It’s not my birthday.” Harry tells him, eyes still twinkling with amusement as he guides Louis out of the coffee shop. “And I’m actually not sure if we’re facebook friends. We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Yeah.” Louis agrees, keeping his face serious. “We’ve been living a lie. If it isn’t facebook official, we aren’t even friends.”

Harry laughs again, and Louis wonders if it’s bad that he would do anything to keep hearing the sound forever.

They reach the block where they part ways, Louis going towards the radio station headquarters and Harry going to his studio. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah? Six o’ clock. My place.”

“It’s really not your birthday?” Louis double checks before they part, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do I need to bring a gift? A cake?”

“Just yourself.” Harry calls out, starting to cross the street. “See you later!”

 

-

 

Louis shows up at Harry’s flat only five minutes late, with a cake in his arms. He had gotten it at a local bakery, the words _Happy Special Day_ iced neatly on the top.

(He had received a friend request from Harry sometime in the early afternoon and, immediately after accepting it, had stalked for Harry’s birthday. That had been a bad idea, leading to a good twenty minutes worth of going through Harry’s past pictures.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Zayn told him when he peered over his shoulder at his laptop screen, seeming absolutely delighted with the turn of events. “That’s a good picture of him, though.”

“Ugh.” Louis groaned, burying his face in his hands before peeking at his screen again. “I know. They’re all good pictures of him. He’s a fucking photographer for fuck’s sake.”

It may have taken a solid half hour out of his day, but he thinks it was a decent investment of his time. Harry’s birthday is February 1st.)

Still, even if it isn’t Harry’s birthday, it is still a special day for him of some sort. He can’t think of anything particularly special about the date – October 17th – but apparently it is. So he had gotten a cake anyways.

Harry swings open the door after his first knock, a bit of sauce by the corner of his lips and a wide smile on his face. “Hi.” He says, a little breathless.

“Hey.” Louis says, holding up the box in his arms. “I got you something.”

Harry’s gaze shifts from Louis’ face to the object he’s holding, and he bursts out laughing again. “You didn’t,” He says in disbelief, although Louis very clearly did.

“I know it’s not your birthday. But I don’t know what day it is. And I think a cake is suitable for just about any occasion worth celebrating.” Louis explains himself.

Harry is smiling at him a little too big, something beyond fond in his eyes. “Thanks.” He says, rolling his eyes but seeming pleased. “That’s sweet of you. Ha! Get it? Sweet.”

Louis scoffs, shaking his head. “This is the last time I do something nice for you. What do I get in return? Terrible jokes.”

“As always.” Harry shrugs. “’m surprised you aren’t sick of me yet.”

It doesn’t sound quite as teasing as Louis suspects Harry intended for it to be. He smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips, licking off the sauce there. “Never.” He assures him.

It feels like a promise.

Harry smiles, inviting him inside as if he wasn’t the one who helped set up the layout of his entire flat.

Louis sets the cake aside for later, and Harry dishes out the food that he’s prepared. It smells amazing, as Harry’s experienced cooking always does, and Louis eagerly follows him over to the table.

“This looks great, H.” He says honestly. “I was going to say that it’s unfair for you to be cooking on your special day, but now I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it anymore.”

Harry chuckles, starting to eat. “Thanks.” He says through a mouthful of food.

Louis doesn’t know if it should be gross or not, but it definitely shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

“So.” He says after a bit, having been temporarily distracted as his full focus was on the food. “What’s the special occasion again?”

“Finish eating first.” Harry says, avoiding the question. “Food’s going cold.”

“You sound like my mum.” Louis grumbles, but it doesn’t take much convincing for him to finish eating.

“Cake?” Harry asks, reaching for the box.

Louis gets a knife and plates, hesitating by the lighter. “Do we need candles?”

“It’s not my birthday, Lou.” Harry says patiently.

Louis walks over, dropping down the plates before Harry. “So what is the occasion?”

Harry dawdles in answering, cutting two slices of cake and taking a bite before saying, “It’s the day I moved to London last year. My one year anniversary of being here, so to speak.”

“Aw.” Louis coos, but he can’t bring himself to make fun of Harry. “That’s sweet of you. I have no idea when Zayn and I moved in.”

Harry laughs. “I only know because I meant to leave before this. I’d heard from other people, you know? That the city kind of sucks you in.”

“Does it?” Louis asks, humming thoughtfully. “I suppose. It’s hard to leave once you’re here. You said you fell in love with London, right?”

Harry gives him a small smile. “Something like that, yeah.”

“That’s really cool, Harry. Maybe not worthy of a celebration and cake, but I’m glad anyways.” Louis says.

Harry chuckles, finishing off his cake and taking Louis’ empty plate from him as well. They sit on the couch together, comfortable with each other’s company.

“Do you know why I know the exact date I moved in?” Harry asks, voice low and tentative.

“Because it’s when you had to renew your lease?” Louis guesses, leaning into Harry.

Harry wraps an arm around him, shaking his head. “I made a pact to myself. That I wouldn’t let London get to me. I’m from a small town, did you know that?”

Louis shakes his head no, watching Harry, mesmerized. The lights are dim, and the shadows cast over Harry’s face make Louis want to brush soft kisses over his cheeks.

“Ah, well I am.” Harry continues. “And everyone there always said that going to the big cities changes people. I didn’t want to change. So I made a pact to myself that I would come, take some pictures, and get out before a year was up.”

“It’s been a year.” Louis says quietly, not sure what Harry is getting at. Is this his way of saying goodbye? The thought of Harry moving away so suddenly tugs at Louis’ heartstrings in a way he wasn’t expecting it to.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees, turning to face him. His gaze is meaningful, but Louis doesn’t know what it means. “I found something worth staying for.”

“Oh.” Louis breathes, feeling unsure of himself.

It’s a rare thing for him to be anything but confident in his own skin, but then again, it’s a rare thing for him to have feelings for someone.

“Do you mean-” He asks hesitantly after a moment, and Harry cracks a smile.

“Someone worth staying for, I suppose I should have said.” Harry clarifies. Then, when Louis’ face still seems uncertain, “You.”

Louis leans in slowly, lips brushing against Harry’s tentatively before kissing him deeply.

Harry breathes what feels like a sigh of relief, pulling Louis closer to him as he kisses him back.

It feels like a first kiss, hinting at the start of something new.

 

-

 

“Hey.” Louis says softly when he comes back to his flat the next day, a giddy smile taking over his face.

His bum is a bit sore from their passionate night, his hair is a wreck from having just woken up, and he couldn’t stop smiling if his life depended on it.

“Hello…” Zayn says slowly, studying Louis. “What’s up with you?”

“You can say you told me so.” Louis says with a grin. “I don’t really even care.”

“About what? I’ve told you a lot of things I’ve been right about.” Zayn teases.

Louis doesn’t even have it in him to say something witty. “Harry and I are dating now.” He says instead, attempting to bite back his smile and failing miserably. “Boyfriends. It’s official.”

Zayn fist pumps and Niall, who Louis hadn’t even realised was in their kitchen, lets out a celebratory whoop of excitement.

“Fuck yes!” Niall cheers.

Zayn comes over to hug him tightly, smacking a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m happy for you, Lou.”

“Thanks.” Louis says, grinning up at him.

“Also,” Zayn continues, ruffling his hair. “You smell like sex.”

“That’s fair.” Louis says with a shrug.

“Also,” Zayn adds, and Louis raises a curious eyebrow at him, already en route to the shower. “I told you so.”

 

 

_November_

 

“Lou, are you going home for Christmas this year?” Zayn asks, frowning at his calendar.

“Dunno, why?” Louis answers with a shrug.

“It might be a bit weird if we spend our first anniversary apart, is all.” Zayn says.

Louis laughs, coming over to peer at Zayn’s calendar as well. “Jesus. Has it really been a year?”

“Yeah. Almost.” Zayn says, chuckling. “Can you believe we made it this long?”

“Can you believe we both are seeing someone right now?” Louis counters, grimacing. “I almost feel bad about the whole situation.”

“It’ll be fine.” Zayn says. “We’re just friends, after all. We just happen to be married.”

“Yeah.” Louis shakes his head. “I just feel weird about it is all.”

“Do you…see yourself being serious with Harry?” Zayn asks quietly. “Because if we think these are like, flings or whatever, then it probably doesn’t matter. But if we’re thinking long term…it might be a good idea to get some divorce papers.”

Louis hesitates, lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I’m not sure, Z. We only started officially dating last month.”

“We’ll see how it goes then, yeah?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah.” Louis agrees. “What about you and Liam?”

“I don’t know if it’ll last, honestly.” Zayn says, looking sad. “But it’s really nice, you know? Feeling loved like that.”

Louis nods. He knows how those kinds of relationships go. “We’ll see.” Louis says. “In the end, if it’s you and me that’s okay too. That’s why we did this, anyhow.”

He calls his mum later that day, and tells her not to expect him home for Christmas this year. She’s upset by the news, but she understands. She tells him to pass along a message to Zayn that he had better be taking care of him right, and Louis laughs.

“You have no idea, mum.” He tells her.

It’ll be his first Christmas away from home.

 

-

 

“Can you try to look a little more…fall?” Harry asks, holding up his camera thoughtfully.

“You want me to fall?” Louis frowns at the pile of leaves at his feet. “Is that for your own enjoyment, or actually for the picture?”

“No,” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I want you to look like fall. You know, the season. Look like autumn.”

Louis gives Harry a judgmental look, but they both know there’s really no judgment behind it. “I thought you were trying to capture feelings, not seasons.”

“Well, fine, how does autumn make you feel?” Harry asks, fiddling with the settings on his camera.

“Cold.” Louis says. “Crisp. In need of Starbucks.”

“Those aren’t feelings, not really.” Harry huffs, chuckling.

“Fine, I feel in love.” Louis says, grinning at Harry.

Harry smiles, taking a picture of him. “My beautiful boy,” He murmurs. “I don’t care if there’s emotion in these or not, I could take pictures of you forever.”

Louis laughs, eyes crinkling happily as he looks up at the tree above him, leaves red and brown and falling. Harry snaps another picture.

“Heya, lads!” Niall greets them, running over. He’s holding a cardboard tray of four coffees and Louis could kiss him, he’s so grateful for the sight.

He abandons his pose as a model, rushing over to Niall and eagerly lifting a cup out of the tray. “Bless your heart,” He tells him seriously. “This is a gift from above.”

“Sure.” Niall says. “Consider this your birthday and Christmas gift, then, because I’ve no idea what to get you for either.”

“Birthday?” Harry asks, looking at them curiously.

“C’mon, H.” Louis teases. “We’re facebook friends now, you should know this.”

“His birthday is Christmas Eve.” Niall supplies helpfully.

“No way!” Harry says, gaping at Louis. He looks partly surprised and partly offended.

Louis shrugs, taking a sip of the coffee.

“Alright then,” Harry hums. “I guess I’ll have to figure out something really special then. Two special days in one.”

Louis grins, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek and passing him a coffee from Niall. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re a cute couple, we get it.” Niall rolls his eyes at the display of affection, attempting to change the topic. “What are you taking pictures of, Harry?”

“I’m trying to capture the emotion of autumn.” Harry says earnestly, Louis nodding in support next to him.

“Isn’t it winter?” Niall asks, frowning.

Harry shrugs. “Yeah. But this tree makes it look like fall.”

“Fair enough.” Niall shrugs. “What emotion are you capturing?”

Harry turns to Louis, connecting their lips in a sweet kiss before pulling back and turning to Niall. “Love.” He answers simply.

 

 

_December_

 

 “I hate this.” Louis informs Zayn, watching him hang mistletoe above their doorway.

“I’ve known you all your life, Lou.” Zayn says calmly, tying off the string with a satisfied nod and climbing back down from the chair he is standing on. “You love Christmas decorations.”

“No I don’t.” Louis grumbles, resuming his task of hanging ornaments on their tree.

“You do.” Zayn says, beginning to hang tinsel along the top of their walls. “You just hate putting them up and taking them down. You like them once they’re up.”

“Shit!” Liam curses as a flash of sparks goes off.

Louis yelps, but Liam emerges from under their Christmas tree a moment later with a  thumbs up. “My bad. I was plugging in the lights wrong.”

“How on earth-” Louis starts to demand, but Zayn cuts him off.

“Shh, Lou. It’s okay, Li, glad you’re okay.” He says.

Louis laughs, shaking his head as he finishes up the ornaments. “I’m terrible with stuff like that and even I haven’t set off sparks by plugging in Christmas lights.”

“Better watch out, then, Louis.” Liam tells him with a grin that he thinks is intended to be mischievous. It mostly looks excited. “I’ll attack you with the sparks next.”

“Now, now.” Zayn scolds them from under an armful of tinsel. “Play nice, you two.”

Louis laughs, reaching for the star and going on his tip-toes to reach the top of the tree.

“Need some help?” Harry’s low voice comes then, and how he managed to sneak from the kitchen where he and Niall were baking sugar cookies to the living room without Louis even noticing is beyond him. He comes up to Louis’ back, wrapping his arms around him from behind and crooning along with the Christmas music that is playing, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas…”

Louis smiles fondly, twisting in Harry’s arms to press a chaste kiss to his lips before handing him the star. “Mmm, please.”

Harry smiles and kisses Louis back before reaching up to place the star at the top of their tree. In Louis’ defense, even Harry has to go on his toes in order to be able to reach.

“Cookies are done!” Niall shouts from the kitchen, and Zayn nearly falls off of his chair in surprise. As is, he manages to catch himself, but gets all tangled up in the tinsel he was supposed to be hanging.

Louis laughs as Liam goes over to help him, tugging Harry into the kitchen to steal a few freshly baked cookies.

“Thank god we don’t believe in Santa anymore.” Niall says, shoving a cookie in his mouth. “We don’t have to save any to leave out for him.”

“Selfish, Niall.” Louis scolds teasingly. “This is the season of giving.”

Harry laughs. “Speaking of which, give me a cookie would ya?”

Niall rolls his eyes, but willingly holds out the cookie tray for them.

“Cheers, mate.” Harry says, grabbing one and immediately taking a bite. “Mmm. These came out really good.”

“Go team,” Niall jokes, fist bumping Harry.

“The decorations came out really well, too.” Harry adds as Liam and Zayn finally make their way into the kitchen, lips bitten and faces flushed.

“Thanks.” Zayn says easily. “Don’t anyone dare stand under the mistletoe with me except Liam.”

Louis very nearly makes a joke of ‘ _not even your husband?’_ , opening his mouth before catching himself and quickly closing it.

Harry is right, though. The decorations really do look good. The tree is standing proudly in the corner, lit nicely thanks to Liam and decorated with ornaments courtesy of Louis. Zayn had put up the tinsel around the room, as well as some more Christmas lights. There are red bows on each of the doors within the flat, and a large wreath hung on their front door.

“Were you going to say something?” Harry asks, turning to Louis.

“Oh.” Louis falters. “Erm, just that we’ve really got the Christmas decorations down pat because we always throw a Christmas Eve party.”

“Are you throwing one this year?” Niall asks.

Louis and Zayn exchange glances, and Louis is sure that they are both thinking of how last year they had skipped their annual Christmas Eve/Birthday bash party due to Zayn’s proposal.

“Yeah.” Zayn says after a beat too long. “We always do.”

Niall doesn’t call them out on that, and Louis is extremely grateful for it.

“But it’s your birthday.” Harry protests, brow furrowed. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on the slight tension in the room now, which is good.

“Yeah.” Louis shrugs. “No one is ever around for it because of the holidays, so I tend to throw a party so anyone who’s around can come.”

“Oh please.” Niall rolls his eyes. “He’s being overdramatic.” Louis feigns an innocent look, pouting at Harry. “I’ve never missed a single party. Neither has Zayn.”

Harry laughs. “Hmm.” He says thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ll have to think up something else for your birthday surprise.”

 

-

 

This year’s Christmas Eve party goes off without a hitch.

“This is much smoother than that New Year’s Eve one was.” Zayn tells Louis with a laugh, sipping at his beer.

Louis nods in agreement, nudging his shoulder against Zayn’s. “A year ago today, huh?” He asks quietly, thinking back to last year.

(It had been the morning of his birthday, just after Louis had woken up.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Zayn had yelled, launching into singing happy birthday to him. He had finished with a flourish, dropping down on one knee and holding out a small box to Louis.

“Zayn.” Louis had said, voice strained. “What’s that?”

“Your birthday gift.” Zayn had answered. “C’mere.”

Louis had walked over, eyes wide, as Zayn flipped open the box to reveal a ring.

“Louis William Tomlinson.” Zayn had said seriously.

“Zayn, if you make this sentimental, I’m going to smash your face into my cake.” Louis had threatened emptily.

“You are now thirty years old. I have known you and loved you for almost all of those years. You are amazing, funny, talented, clever, caring, and all in all one of the best people I know. I actually have no idea how you’re still single, except for that maybe there’s someone you’re meant to meet later on in life. Still, I know it makes you feel a little worthless and a little old, even though only one of those things are true, old man.”

Louis had laughed, still standing in front of Zayn in disbelief.

“So for the time being, while you and I grow old and figure our shit out… will you marry me?” Zayn had asked, smiling up at him smugly.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Louis had hissed, hauling Zayn up to hug him tightly. “Of course, yes. I can’t believe you actually did this.”

Zayn hugged Louis back just as tight before pulling back with a hesitant look. “There’s one caveat.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”)

 “A year ago today.” Zayn agrees. Then, a teasing grin spreads on his face as he turns to Louis. “Can’t believe you’re thirty-one now, mate.”

“Oi!” Louis huffs. “You’re about to be welcomed to your thirties in less than a month, so you have no room to talk.”

“But thirty- _one_.” Zayn teases, laughing. “You’re so old.”

Louis punches him on the arm, but it’s a halfhearted gesture. “Did you want to do anything tomorrow? Like. Not for Christmas, but for our anniversary?”

Zayn shrugs. “Wasn’t planning on it. You see, this is why I judge people who get married on major holidays. It’s so inconvenient for them to celebrate.”

Louis shakes his head, leaning against Zayn’s side. “Yeah. We’ll already be celebrating Christmas, so I guess there’s not much else to do.”

“It’s not a big deal to you, is it?’ Zayn checks, and Louis laughs.

“Do you know me?” Louis laughs. “Of course not. I still can’t believe we went through with it.”

“We might as well not have.” Zayn says, motioning to where Harry is dancing drunkenly with Niall amidst the bodies in their living room. “I think you and this one might go far.”

Louis flushes, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can manage. “We’ll see, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Zayn agrees. “But the way he looks at you, Lou. The way you light up around him. I’ve known you for twenty five years now, seen you in relationships and out. And I’ve never seen you like that with someone before.”

Louis shrugs again, not sure how to respond to that.

“Anyways,” Zayn chuckles, clapping Louis on the back. “Guess it’s a good thing we got married, cuz otherwise you never would have met him.”

Louis frowns at Zayn, shaking his head. “I would too. I didn’t even go as your husband to that first event.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees. “Because it was your test run. Have I ever brought you to an event like that before, suit and tie?”

“No…” Louis says slowly. “But it was your first time with your art displayed like that, wasn’t it?”

Zayn chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. It wasn’t all too special, except for that I happened to place this time. There’s been events like this before, but I figured it was a good one to go to and see how you did.”

Louis sighs, taking a sip of his drink. “Sneaky. Well, I think I did excellent.”

“Yeah, if you count getting into an argument with the judges and finding your future boyfriend excellent for me…” Zayn teases, trailing off.

Louis laughs. “Fine. I did decent.” He glances across the room, catching Harry’s eye. “And speaking of which, I’m going to go dance with said boyfriend.”

“Have fun,” Zayn tells him, turning to go get some more beer. “Use a condom.”

Louis rolls his eyes, and makes his way across the room towards Harry.

They dance together until the party dies down, and even after that, when it’s just them left in the room, swaying in each other’s arms as Zayn turns off the music.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Harry whispers, only slurring slightly.

“Is that supposed to be an innuendo?” Louis asks, studying Harry’s face. His pick up lines have gotten worse if anything over the time they’ve been together.

Harry laughs, grabbing Louis’ hand and tugging him towards his room. “No.” He says. “But I can surprise you with that, too, if you want.”

Louis rolls his eyes, stumbling after his boy.

“Here.” Harry says, once they’ve reached Louis’ room. He pushes Louis gently towards his bed, and drops down on his hands and knees to reach for something under the bed before emerging holding a box.

“Did you hide my present in my room?” Louis asks, amused.

“Yes.” Harry shrugs. “Zayn’s room was… occupied when I first got here. And I couldn’t hide it outside with the party going on.”

Louis laughs, smiling fondly. He might just be in love with this man.

“Anyways,” Harry says, brow furrowing as he realises he’s gotten sidetracked. He holds out the box towards Louis. “Happy birthday.”

Louis smiles up at him, taking the large, carefully wrapped box from Harry.

“This is so neatly done,” He comments, delicately removing the bow and shaking the box. It feels like one large item.

“C’mon, just open it.” Harry urges.

Louis obediently tears at the wrapping paper, revealing the back of a large frame. _Happiness, by Harry Styles_ , reads a label on the back. Slowly, he flips it over.

It’s a matte golden frame, twisting designs along the borders. But inside the glass, are pictures of Louis. Pictures of them. Pictures of things they had done, places they had gone.

“Harry.” Louis breathes, unable to take his eyes away.

There’s a picture of the warehouse and of Louis in the warehouse, caught mid-laugh as he’s putting on Harry’s denim shirt. There are pictures of their coffee meetups, of them at dinner, of Louis drunk and laughing. There are selfies that they took together, and one picture taken by someone else where Harry is looking at Louis as he says something funny, his face shining with fondness. There’s a post-sex picture as well, Louis completely blissed out and unaware.

 (He remembers that day, laying in bed next to Harry as the first streams of morning light began to filter into the room.

“Morning sex is the best.” Harry had informed him. “Do you agree now?”

Louis had laughed, remembering how this had started with him arguing that morning sex was never as good as other times. “Fine,” He had mumbled, smiling despite himself. “Agreed.”

There had been a click of a camera shutter, a sound that Louis had grown used to over his time spent with the photographer.

“What are you taking pictures of?” Louis asked, cracking an eye open to see Harry with his camera aimed at him.

Harry had shrugged, setting down the camera again and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Emotion,” Harry had answered simply.)

 “Do you like it?” Harry asks, voice quiet and vulnerable.

Louis looks up at him then, not sure how to convey everything he’s feeling. “I think you did it.” He says softly. “I think you just might’ve captured emotion.”

Harry visibly relaxes, chuckling and pulling Louis close. “Do _you_ like it, though?”

 _I love you,_ he thinks. “I love it.” He says.

 

-

 

“Merry Christmas, husband.” Zayn calls out teasingly when Louis stumbles out into the kitchen the next morning. Harry had spent the night, and rushed out hours ago this morning with a sore bum and kiss bitten lips from Louis to go meet his family for Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” Louis says, blinking blearily at Zayn. There’s no annoying pet name attached to the greeting, and Zayn’s eyes narrow imperceptibly at Louis in response.

“Happy Anniversary, lovebirds!” Niall’s voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Why’s Niall here?” Louis asks, taking a seat at the table.

“Rude.” Niall shouts out, appearing with a plate stacked with Eggo waffles. “Also, your kitchen is severely understocked.”

“We haven’t been grocery shopping in like, a month.” Zayn admits by way of explanation.

“Our eggs went bad ages ago.” Louis grimaces.

“I think we ate them anyways.” Zayn tells him, and Louis nods. That sounds about right.

“Well, consider your Christmas gift from me some Christmas grocery shopping.” Niall says, setting down the plate with a clatter. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. For a married thirty-year old couple, you lot are still not functional adults.”

“We know.” Louis groans, taking a waffle. “Are we out of syrup?”

“Probably.” Zayn says, looking unbothered.

“I’ll check.” Niall says, disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Happy Anniversary,” Zayn says to Louis, taking a bite of waffle before adding sarcastically, “This the epitome of romance, wouldn’t you say?”

Louis cringes, and not at the waffles. “I think,” He says, swallowing hard. “I’m in love with Harry.”

Zayn looks at him, but Louis can’t read the expression on his face. Then, his face twists suddenly into a mock heartbroken look, eyes wide and lips in a trembling pout. “You… you don’t love me anymore?” He asks, voice shaking remarkably realistically. “But- but it’s our anniversary! How could you do this to me, Louis?”

“Zayn.” Louis says flatly.

Zayn bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, relax.”

“I know.” Louis groans. “But I’m not.”

“I know.” Zayn says, smiling softly. “But it’s okay. Pretty sure I picked up on your feelings for him before you did yourself.”

“I really don’t need another ‘I told you so’ right now, Z.” Louis says warningly.

“You really are lucky you have me.” Zayn says instead, standing up and going to their living room, reaching under the couch and pulling out a thin rectangle, wrapped sloppily in red and green paper. “I got you the best gift.”

“You’re changing the topic.” Louis says warily, but takes the present from Zayn anyways.

Just then, there’s a knock on their door.

“Are we expecting someone?” Zayn asks, frowning.

Louis shrugs. Harry is with his family in Holmes Chapel, Liam is off with his family in Wolverhampton. It’s possibly their landlord, one of their neighbors, or the mailman. “Maybe it’s a package!” Louis says, figuring that’s the most likely option.

“Maybe someone left something here after your party last night.” Niall calls out.

Zayn shrugs, and Louis goes over to the door, swinging it open. “Hel-“ Louis starts to greet whoever it is. “ _Oh_.” Louis freezes, shocked blue eyes meeting beaming green ones.

“Hi.” Says Harry, holding a neatly wrapped bundle in his arms. “Surprise!”

There’s a crash from the kitchen behind him, and Louis winces. “Harry!” He says loudly, hoping the panic he is feeling isn’t showing on his face.

“Well,” Zayn calls out, voice sounding slightly strained. “Good thing it’s not the mailman. You’re standing under the mistletoe.”

Louis laughs, but it feels forced. Still, he leans forward to kiss Harry quickly.

Harry hums against his lips happily, beaming as he pulls away and steps inside their flat. “This is going to sound crazy,” He says, oblivious to the stunned faces watching him. “But I started driving home, right?”

“Right.” Louis says slowly, closing the door behind him and following him in slowly. Mentally, he thanks Zayn for stopping Niall from decorating the flat with ‘Happy Anniversary’ decorations from the dollar store.

“And after fifty kilometers, I realised I forgot to give you your Christmas present.” Harry says, holding up the wrapped object in his arms for emphasis. “So I turned around to drive back to you. And I called my mum to tell her I’d be late. And she says, ‘If you’ve gone and met a boy that has you turning right around and driving back to give him a present on Christmas Day without a second thought, then why aren’t you spending Christmas with him?’” Harry quotes, his voice rising a little as he imitates his mum.

“Aww, Harry.” Louis says fondly, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” He says. “But I wanted to. I’ll drive home tomorrow, instead, if I can convince myself to. My sister will be home through New Year’s, so there’s no rush.”

“Anyways, are we opening presents now, then?” He asks, taking Louis hand and intertwining their fingers, squeezing softly.

Louis realises in the same instant Harry does. He thinks Zayn might have seen it coming, based on the way his face pales the moment Harry reaches for Louis’ hand.

“You’re…wearing a ring.” Harry says quietly. His voice is calm, questioning, but his body has gone somewhat stiff. “I didn’t know you wore rings.”

Louis feels like he’s watching a train that’s about to crash. He and Zayn had actually dropped the habit of wearing their rings after Louis had started dating Harry. The only reason they are today is because it’s their anniversary.

“I…” Louis trails off, not able to meet Harry’s eye. His gaze is frozen on Louis’ hand anyways, so it wouldn’t have mattered even if he was able to.

Harry lets go of Louis’ hand then, and Louis feels like he’s lost a part of him already.

“That’s not just any ring, is it?” Harry asks, but it’s not a question. It’s not quite an accusation, either. He sounds resigned, more than anything else.

His eyes are flicking over Louis’ hand as if double checking the finger that Louis has the ring on, recounting his fingers over and over.

Zayn is now sitting on his left hand, looking like he wants to say something but also not wanting to draw attention to himself.

“Harry!” Niall calls cheerily, walking in obliviously from the kitchen. “Want a waffle? I found syrup.”

“Louis,” Harry says seriously, not sparing Niall a glance. He’s still standing next to Louis, but his body is angled away from him, as far as he can get from him without taking a step back. “Louis, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Louis meets Harry’s eyes.

“Are you married?” Harry asks.

His gaze is serious, and the hurt clear in his green eyes is the only thing that stops Louis from trying to deflect.

Niall drops the syrup with a thud of plastic. “Shit.” He whispers.

“One year ago today.” Louis admits.

Harry sucks in his cheeks, not seeming to know what to say. “You’ve been lying to me?” He asks, voice strained.

 “Not really,” Zayn interrupts, eyes glinting dangerously in Louis’ defense. “Hear out the whole story, Harry.”

“What whole story?” Harry demands, his face closing off in anger.

Louis can’t seem to make his mouth work, can’t make the words come.

Harry is continuing before he would have had a chance to speak anyways. “You’ve been married since before I even met you.” He says, and now it’s definitely an accusation. “It doesn’t make a difference if you’re currently married or if you’re separated or whatever, you never _once_ mentioned that you had a spouse.”

Harry is pulling at his hair, his present to Louis laying forgotten on the table. “And to think,” He says, voice cracking.

There’s a pause, and Louis almost interrupts, but Harry’s glare shuts him up immediately. He feels like he’s shrinking in on himself, like if he can get small enough maybe he’ll disappear from this spot.

“And to think,” Harry repeats, looking away. “I drove back today to tell you I loved you.”

He’s whirling around before Louis can react, striding angrily towards the door.

“Harry!” Louis shouts, a whirlwind of emotions. “Harry, no, _please_.”

He’s halfway out the door by the time Louis gets his legs to work, rushing after him. “I love you too.” He says, and Harry stops just in the doorway.

He gives Louis a forced smile, and it looks so wrong on his face that Louis wants to scream.

“Please,” Louis says, blinking back tears. “Please, let me explain. I promise you that we’ll be laughing about this later, it’s not what you think.”

Harry takes a deep breath, turning to face Louis squarely. “Not as bad as I think?” He challenges. “What, you like wearing your wedding ring sometimes even though you aren’t with your spouse?”

Louis shakes his head, feeling sheepish. “More like,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he blurts it out. “I married my best friend last year because we both thought we were going to be forever alone and I had just turned thirty.”

Harry’s eyes are glistening, flicking rapidly from the shining ring on Louis’ hand to the earnest look in his face. “And?”

“And we’re just friends. It was never anything more. Just friends, who got married.” Louis says, feeling incredibly stupid.

Zayn clears his throat guiltily from where he is sitting at the table, drawing Harry’s attention to him.

“You?” Harry asks in disbelief, taking two steps back inside and towards Zayn, who is holding up his left hand where a matching ring rests on his fourth finger.

“What the fuck.” Harry says, but he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore, just confused and distrustful.

“It’s stupid, it was so stupid.” Louis says pleadingly.

“You married _Zayn_?” Harry asks, looking as if he is biting back a smile now. It’s probably a testament to how much he has seen of Louis’ and Zayn’s friendship that this doesn’t put him off further. “Tell me you didn’t.” He says, eyes searching Louis’ face. “You two are the furthest thing from a couple I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, now.” Zayn says, looking mildly offended. “I think we look good together.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” Niall asks, looking relieved. “They’re insane.”

“You knew?” Harry asks Niall, raising an eyebrow.

Niall shrugs. “Can you believe I wasn’t even invited to the wedding?”

“You had a _wedding_?” Harry asks, eyes flicking between Louis and Zayn gleefully.

He’s looking increasingly relieved and amused as Louis and Zayn grow increasingly embarrassed.

“So let me get this straight.” Harry says, sinking down onto the couch. He turns to Zayn. “You and Louis got married last year, because Louis had turned thirty and didn’t think he’d ever find anyone. And you had a wedding and got rings, and everything?”

“We made a pact when we were twenty that if we were still single at thirty, we’d marry each other.” Zayn explains, and Harry barks out a laugh.

Niall is sitting at the table, chin propped up as he listens in interest. “What?” Niall asks. “I barely got the whole story when Lou explained it to me.”

“And you had a wedding and got rings and everything?” Harry asks incredulously.

“We thought it might be our only chance to do it.” Louis admits.

“And you _never_ had anything romantic?” Harry asks, looking from Zayn to Louis to confirm.

They don’t answer verbally but the twin looks of disgust that take over their faces, followed by offended looks that they give each other at having seen the other’s response, speak for them.

“You really thought you’d never find anyone?” Harry asks softly, standing and stepping close to Louis again.

“Never met anyone like you before.” Louis whispers. “Didn’t think it would be anything serious at first, and then after it was I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Harry laughs, grin spread wide on his face as he buries his face in Louis’ shoulder. “You’re crazy.” He whispers. “I was so scared just now, you have no idea.”

“I’ve got something that will make it even better,” Zayn says, holding out his present to Louis again.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “We’re having a moment here, Z. Can’t presents wait?”

“Open it.” Harry urges, looking curious.

Louis shrugs and obliges, tearing off the wrapping paper. Inside is a manila folder, and inside that are papers titled _Complaint for Divorce, regarding the Marriage of Mr. Louis Tomlinson and Mr. Zayn Malik._

“Zayn.” Louis says, looking at him in awe. “When did you…?”

“I told you I knew you were falling for him before you did.” Zayn says, smiling.

“Well.” Niall says, munching on a waffle. “I don’t know about you lot, but this is not how I expected my Christmas to go.”

Harry laughs at that for a little too long, relief shining in his eyes. “You’re telling me!”

“God, imagine what it’ll be like when I tell Liam.” Zayn groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“He’ll get over it.” Harry says. “We’ll team up to tease you about how stupid you two were.”

 “Merry Christmas?” Louis says weakly, smiling tentatively at Harry.

“Merry Christmas.” Harry agrees, connecting their lips.

“And happy fucking anniversary to us.” Zayn jokes, and they all laugh.

They spend the rest of the day looking at Louis and Zayn’s wedding pictures, and reliving their experiences together as husbands as per Harry’s request. They blast Christmas music, singing along loudly, and watch cheesy Christmas cartoons.

Louis FaceTimes with his mum to say Merry Christmas to his family, and admits sheepishly when they wish him a happy anniversary that a divorce is on the way. His sisters whine consolingly, but cheer up considerably when he introduces them to Harry, and his mum has a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“I like him.” She tells Louis afterwards. “You’ll have to bring him home to meet us properly sometime.”

“I will.” Louis promises, smiling softly.

“You love him, don’t you?” She asks knowingly.

“Yeah,” Louis says, glancing fondly at where Harry and Niall are complaining about the contents of Zayn and Louis’ kitchen. “I think I really do.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.” Jay tells him with a smile. “You know I like Zayn and all, but I’m glad you found someone who’s really right for you.”

“Well don’t go sending out wedding invites just yet,” Louis jokes. “But I think we could be something great.”

“You know what I think?” Jay asks him, beaming. “You already are.”

It’s later that night, curled up with Harry on the couch in front of the Christmas tree that Louis realises he hasn’t really verbalized his emotions to Harry.

“Hey,” He whispers, and Harry turns to him with a fond smile. “Did I mention that I think I’m in love with you?”

Harry beams. “I don’t believe you did.” He says, before joking “We’ve clearly got to work on our communication.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head and kissing Harry’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we’ll get on that.”

Harry sighs happily, and it’s another moment of content quiet before he says “You never opened my present to you, by the way.”

 Louis blinks up at Harry, laughing again. “I know you drove back because of it, but I forgot all about it with everything that happened after that.”

“Well, with having just discovered you were actually married this whole time, I think it’s an understandable distraction.” Harry allows, grinning. He grabs his gift for Louis, forewarning him before he can tear into the wrapping, “Just so you know, last night was my sentimental gift to you. This one…is a bit less so.”

Louis chuckles, and pecks Harry’s lips before ripping open the package.

Inside, is a neatly folded dark red sweater with a picture of silver bells and a green ornament sewn on the front. In large green letters across the chest it reads in a festive font: _Jingle Balls_.

“I…don’t know what to say.” Louis tells him, stifling a laugh.

“You could say that you would like to jingle my balls.” Harry says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Louis bursts out laughing, leaning into Harry as he groans at his words. “Your lines just keep getting worse, you know that?”

Harry looks thoughtful for a moment. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a yes.” Louis says, rolling his eyes and tugging Harry towards his bedroom. “Always yes for you.”

 

-

 

_January_

 

“Yes!” Louis cheers, high fiving Liam and pulling him in for a hug.

They are at the latest art showing, both Harry and Zayn having made the cut to be finalists.

“Can you believe it?” Liam asks, clinging to Louis excitedly.

Louis beams, glancing at Harry’s latest collage, titled _Emotions of Autumn_. There’s a picture of him in the center, smiling lovingly not at the camera, but at Harry behind it. The other pictures show the dreary rain, wistful wind, warm drinks, and various people experiencing each one.

“I do get emotion out of this one. I’m very impressed.” Liam tells him the judge had said. Being featured in the artwork, Louis hadn’t been able to eavesdrop himself this time, and had sent Liam to do it instead.

“What’s the man in the center supposed to be feeling?” Louis hears an art enthusiast nearby ask her friend, studying Harry’s photos. “I see the lady with the drink feeling warm and happy, the man in the rain feeling cold but triumphant, the woman in the wind feeling nostalgic and thoughtful. But I can’t quite put my finger on the middle one.”

“I dunno.” Her friend shrugs. “He looks happy, if you ask me.”

“Yes.” She agrees. “But there’s something more to it that I can’t quite place.”

“That’s a quality of a good picture.” Her friend says dismissively, moving on to the next piece.

Louis smiles to himself, clearing his throat to get her attention.

“And I’m not an expert in photography.” He says, smiling kindly at her. “But I’d say his emotion is love.”

It’s not until after he’s walked away, he hears her gasp loudly. “Oh! That was the man from the photo!”

“When am I going to get you to keep your mouth shut at these art events?” Harry murmurs teasingly, coming over and quickly kissing Louis on the lips.

Somewhere nearby, Mrs. Atkins drops her clipboard at the sight.

“Never.” Louis answers with a smile.

“What did you say to her, anyhow?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at the girl who is now pointing at them and whispering excitedly to her friend.

“Just announcing my love for you, is all.” Louis tells him. “The usual.”

 

-

 

Harry is the witness during Louis and Zayn’s divorce process, and it all goes smoothly.

He also helps when Zayn tells Liam, armed with an official divorce and a supportive backup entourage of Harry, Louis, and Niall. They only laugh a little bit at Liam’s wide eyes and confused expression as Zayn attempts to explain everything.

Louis and Zayn’s rings go on their mantle, accompanied by their wedding photos that they now keep on display. Next to that, Louis hangs the framed photos that Harry had given him for his birthday. The emotions in them, Harry always says when he sees them, are his favorite of any other works he has managed to capture so far.

 

 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> all the love to [Phia](http://www.bloueandgreen.tumblr.com) for telling me about this fic exchange - without you this fic wouldn't exist.  
> thanks also to Katherine for getting me through my writer's block and insisting that "Jingle Balls" be used somehow within this fic, ily.
> 
> you can reblog the post for the fic [here](http://hlchristmasfanfictionexchange.tumblr.com/post/154934569498/fics-revealed-on-2412) if you liked it


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